Blank Slate
by spottedhorse
Summary: Begun for AndithFest 2018. Anthony is found by some Americans during the war. The story begins rather bleakly but hopefully a cure will come his way.
1. Chapter 1

He sighed as he laid on his cot in the dark, cold room. His previous place had a small window high on the wall, giving him a little bit of light. But this room was blanketed in chilling blackness. He was long past fear; he simply wished it would be over. Groping in his pocket, he found it, the one thing that kept him sane. He left it in its place, not able to see it even if he did pull it out. It was alright though; he didn't need to look at the picture. He could see it in his mind's eye. It was as much a part of him as any part of his body, hours and hours of staring at it, stroking his fingers over the face in the photograph, reading the writing on the back had made it a part of him. The face in the photograph was a young lady, not a great beauty but certainly attractive and the warmth in her doe-like eyes comforted him. The writing on the back, "always, your Edith" and the year 1914 filled him with contentment. It also made him sad. Somewhere a very pretty young lady was waiting for him but he would never come back to her. Even if he somehow managed to escape his current situation, he would not return to her. He couldn't because he couldn't remember anything about her beyond the picture; he couldn't even remember who he was. Except for the pain and torture of the last few weeks, perhaps months, he had no memory at all. In the moments of his darkest thought, he believed that might be good.

Food was shoved in through the door. Sometimes he would grope in the dark to find it, other times it didn't seem worth the effort. This was one of those times so he remained on his cot, trying to imagine a life with the pretty young woman with the doe-like eyes. Escaping into the fantasy he'd built with the woman in the photograph brought him pleasure, or something close to that anyway. Somewhere int he midst of his fantasy the man fell asleep.

His awakening was a rude one as men came into his chamber and dragged him off the cot. The man who had his right arm was not careful of the wound he'd had ever since he could remember. The thing never healed because every time the men came for him, the wound was reopened in their handling of him. It used to hurt. Now he wasn't certain if the arm was dead or if he was simply oblivious to the pain; there was so much of it... His life seemed to be nothing but pain and cold... and emptiness.

He was brought to a room with large windows. The sun shone through and the light hurt his eyes. But the sunlight felt good too. He was tied to a chair, which was normal. Turning his face toward the light, he allowed his eyelids to open enough to look through the panes. There were trees outside and a blue sky. That's when the largest of the men struck him, nearly knocking him and the chair over.

"Alright, we begin again," the angry voice said. "We know you were spying on our men. Who do you report to? And how many men are in your unit?"

He tried to take a deep breath. The questions were always the same and as always, he had no answers. The large man struck him again. He grunted. "I don't know," he replied with a croaky voice. The questions continued and his lack of answers only further angered the men. But he simply had none to give. Finally, it stopped. "Take him back to his room," the inquisitor barked. "And half his rations."

At the instructions of the inquisitor, he began to laugh. What did half rations matter to him? He was dead already anyway; his body just refused to accept it.

After three more trips to the room with the windows, three more beatings, and three more cuts to his rations, he was too weak to do anything but lie on his cot. He sensed the end would be soon; his body could not withstand much more. It would be a welcome release from this hell he was living in. As he fumbled for the photograph again, he had but one regret. She would never know the peace she'd brought to him with her simple words, _Yours always, Edith_. He hoped Edith had moved on and she would only know happiness in her life.

There were loud noises outside his door and suddenly it crashed open. Light poured in behind the men who poured into the room. Blinking, he tried to see who these men were. Their uniforms were different. The men looked at one another and finally one spoke. "You speak English?"

The man thought the accent was off, but it didn't matter. He had no information to give these men either. There was no harm in answering. "Yes, I do."

"Come on then," the voice said. "We'll get you back to your unit."

The man blinked. His unit? "I...I...not sure I can walk."

Two of the men approached him. Reaching down, the grabbed him under his arms but the man on his right let go. "Geez, Captain...his arm..."

The Captain walked closer and peered at the man's right arm."You've been shot." His tone was unsurprised.

"Oh...yes; arm's quite useless."

"Carful fellas. Take it easy with him." then turning to him, the Captain said, "We'll get you to a field hospital. You'll be okay, buddy."

"Yes, alright," the man replied weakly as he doubted he would ever be "okay" again.

His rescuers, Americans as it turned out, kept their promise and took him to a field hospital which sent him to another one even further from the lines. There he was cleaned, shaved, and given clean clothes. Food was brought, and he actually managed to eat some. The doctors looked at his shoulder, decided to clean and repair it as best they could and told him the hospital in England could perhaps do more.

He was lying in his cot in the building that housed the officers two afternoons after his arrival at the hospital encampment, contemplating what his life might become now. Relieved that there would be no more torture, he still couldn't seem to grasp that he might have a future. How could he? As far as he knew, he had no past; no past except the lovely Edith, a mysterious woman in a photograph.

An orderly was cleaning around the tent and moved toward his cot. A small table sat beside his bed that held a glass of water and a few other things, including the photo. The orderly reached for it, sending the man into a panic. "No," he cried out, trying to reach for the picture in the other man's hand.

"What's the problem here?" a woman's voice demanded.

The orderly looked up sheepishly. "I was just looking at his picture. Don't know why he even has it, the thing is so worn and dirty."

"Put it down," she commanded. The orderly complied and looked down at the man. "Sorry." He picked up with his cleaning and moved away. Footsteps sounded near the cot and the man tried to look around to see who was there. A woman stepped into his view. She was older than most of the sisters who worked in his ward. There was a firmness in her attitude and determination in the set of her jaw. As she stepped closer, she looked down at him, opening her mouth to introduce herself when she stopped in mid stride. Then slowly she approached him. "Do you remember me?" she asked softly.

The man looked at her trying desperately to remember the woman but nothing came to mind. "No, I have no memory of anything from before my imprisonment."

"Oh dear." The woman frowned. "I'm Isobel Crawley. I met you several years ago at the estate of my late husband's cousin, Robert Crawley. You lived nearby."

"You... you know me?" Suddenly he felt energized. "You know who I am?"

"You are Sir Anthony Strallan. You remember nothing?"

He rolled the name through his mind and then repeated it in a soft whisper, Anthony Strallan. Looking up at her, he shook his head. "No, I don't... I... I don't remember anything."

It was then that her eyes glanced toward the photograph. "Why, that's Edith," she gasped.

"It... it says that on the back, or rather it used to. I'm afraid the writing has faded. But it said 'always, your Edith' and it was dated 1914."

"1914?" She looked thoughtful. "Yes, Cousin Cora told me that Edith expected a proposal from you but then the war was announced and it never came. Edith was quite upset as I recall. It was as if you just dropped off the earth."

Tears filled his eyes. "We were to be engaged?" He was filled with wonder.

"They are sending you to London in a few days. I'll notify Edith. Perhaps she can meet you there."

His heart leapt with excitement. But then he remembered his injuries and the months of torture and depravation. "No, please don't. She would be better off without me. I... I'm not that man; I don't even remember that man. It would be too painful, for both of us."

Isobel Crawley studied the man before her. "Alright then. I won't contact her. But promise me that you will, eventually. She has missed you so very much."

Her words rang in his ears for days, all the way to London and the hospital there. And as he lay staring at the sterile white walls of his ward, the man began to regret asking Isobel Crawley not to contact his Edith.

As it happened though, Isobel had a way of circumventing instructions if she thought there was a better path. And in this instance, she felt Edith's presence would help the deeply wounded Anthony Strallan. And seeing him again just might help Edith as well. It was she who insisted that once his arm was patched as well as it could be that Major Sir Anthony Strallan be sent to recuperate at the small rehabilitation facility at Downton.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone has been so kind with the comments. It is truly inspiring and so my fingers have been happily busy typing the words the muse bestowed upon me. That muse thrives on good reviews, haha. I hope you enjoy.  
I know Sir Julian created these characters, but I think we've taken them places he never considered and developed them in ways that might shock him. I take pleasure in that thought. So while he might own them in the legal sense, we Andith shippers own them on a much more personal level as they are a part of our hearts and souls. And don't worry, Sir J, Anthony and Edith couldn't be in better keeping, for we all love them whole heartedly. And now...

* * *

He was lying in his bed in the semi lit room after arriving at the hospital that was obviously more ordinarily someone's residence, his blank mind lost in bleakness. In London, they had confirmed his name and he'd been told the cursory details of his life, raised in Yorkshire on the family estate at Locksley. Attended good schools and finished at Harrow and then on to Cambridge. Married and then widowed; no children. His only family was a sister who they were trying to find. He couldn't give them her name, of course. According to his commanders, he'd been captured by the Germans when he was caught behind the lines gathering information on troop movements and battle plans. And now, here he was with no memory, a useless right arm, a battered body, and feeling quite used up. Why hadn't he just died in that house, in that dark room? He'd been rescued for what? He had no purpose, no roots, nothing to ground him in this life.

He'd been found in the rags of a British uniform and the Americans that rescued him assumed he was British. However, he confused everyone until that Crawley woman identified him. If someone spoke to him in English, he replied in English. If they spoke to him in German, his response was in flawless German. The same with French. Apparently, he could even speak a little Polish. He felt no more a part of one group than the other. He belonged nowhere, belonged to no one, not even to himself. His thoughts had grown darker each day as he lived through the pokes and prods of doctors and nurses at each hospital along the way.

They'd performed surgery on his shoulder in an effort to give him back some use of his arm. He'd agreed, thinking it mattered little one way or the other and if he was lucky perhaps he would die under the surgeon's knife. He awoke to find the arm still useless but more painful. More to his chagrin was that he woke at all.

The afternoon of his arrival at Downton, Anthony was exhausted both physically and emotionally, and was dozing when he heard voices in his subconscious mind. ""I'll just sit here, if it's alright," a sweet young voice said with an insistent tone. "But it might be hours before he wakes. And ... well, he's just so terribly confused." The second voice was one he recognized from earlier in the day, a nurse of some sort.

"Well, I'm staying." He heard a twinge of sadness in her voice and wondered who this stranger was.

A small chuckle could be heard and then footsteps walking away. There was scraping on the floor next to his bed and he thought a chair was being dragged. Then quiet. Then a soft whisper. "Oh Anthony... Oh my darling..."

He felt a sudden rush of anticipation. Was it his sister? But the voice sounded young. Could it be... might Edith be here to see him? He almost felt giddy until he remembered. She wouldn't want him like this, broken and beaten, a cripple. He pretended to sleep while he tried to decide how to act with her. His ruse was short lived however, when she said softly, "I know you are awake, Anthony. Please don't be afraid."

Slowly he let his eyes open, the light still a concern after having spent so much time in the dark. But as they adjusted, he settled his gaze on the woman sitting in the chair beside him. It was the young woman in the photograph. She was a tad older, looking less like a child, but there was no mistaking who she was. "Edith?"

Her face lit with a smile that sent warmth through his entire being. "Yes Anthony, it is your Edith." She reached over and took his left hand in hers. "But they said you couldn't remember anything?"

"I… I can't. But in my pocket, I found a picture. It was you and, on the back, you'd written _always, your Edith."_ I kept it hidden in my pocket and took it out when the guards were not around. " He hesitated but then decided to forge ahead. "That picture, of you, was my only comfort. You kept me sane."

"Oh Anthony, I was so worried. You just disappeared and I wanted so much to explain…"

He stopped her. "I don't remember anything, Edith; not you or whatever happened before…. Anything. So, there is no need to explain anything. Well, except perhaps that I am no use to you now. I was told that we were to be engaged before the war, although I can't imagine what you would see in me as I'm so much older, but I'm quite sure I would have been a very happy man. But now, don't you see, I'm not…"

It was Edith's turn to interrupt. "You are alive… and here. And for now, that is enough. We will sort it all later. For now, please let me just enjoy sitting here with you. Please?"

She looked at him with such a glow in her eyes and Anthony was so very knackered that he couldn't find it in himself to push her away. "Yes, alright, for now. But there is nothing to sort. I have always been too old and now, well…. I'm not fit for any woman, let alone one as lovely as you." Edith started to object but then decided to thank him for calling her lovely instead, choosing to hold his words close to her, relishing that he thought her lovely.

And so Edith sat with Anthony. She sat that day and every day that week. Often she snuck in little treats, a tart or a sweet bread, remembering that Anthony had a bit of a sweet tooth and knowing he had lost a lot of weight and needed filling out. "Goodness," he said with a small chuckle one afternoon when she'd brought in a tart, "I fell like the proverbial goose being fattened for a holiday feast." Seeing him smile boosted Edith for the rest of the day.

Her duties were not neglected, but she found an hour here and an hour there every day to sit and as he felt able, talk with Anthony. And for him, those hours spent with Edith were the most glorious hours he could remember.

Eventually, he learned that the nurse who most often attended to him was Edith's younger sister, Lady Sybil. She was a pleasant young thing, full of vitality, and very pretty to look at. There were other nurses, of course, and even occasionally the house staff helped as needed. But none of them, Lady Sybil included, was lovelier in his eyes than Lady Edith. It was her that he hoped to see each time the door to his room opened. Anthony also learned that when the Earl had heard that he was coming to Downton he insisted that his longtime neighbor and friend should have a room to himself, a luxury that only the worst cases received. Over time, he was visited by each member of Edith's family, the Earl, his mother, Lady Grantham, and even the oldest sister, Mary. Anthony found it difficult to understand how someone as amiable as the Earl and pleasant as the Countess could produce two exquisite and splendid daughters in Lady Edith and Lady Sybil and such an indifferent one in Lady Mary. Even the birdlike Dowager Countess, while aloof, was more charming than her eldest granddaughter. He would have been mortified had he known of the conversations about him between the Dowager and the current Earl and Countess, however.

"Robert, you must find a way to keep Edith occupied and away from Sir Anthony," the Dowager told her son. Then looking at her daughter-in-law, "or perhaps Cora could find tasks to occupy her time. While a gentleman and a long time acquaintance of this family, "she paused, "Heavens, his father and your father hunted together as did their fathers, he is simply not suitable for Edith in his present condition. And even if his memory returns, he's still rather used up, don't you think?"

Robert blanched and Cora opened her mouth to object, but the Dowager continued. "He is far too old and his war experience seems to have aged him even beyond his years. And now, with the arm… and no memory…. We simply must put a stop to it."

Robert grimaced. "Mama, surely you recognize that it is most likely Edith who is pursuing him, if there is any pursuing going on? Strallan is still too confused and too ….broken to do much pursuing. And as much as I agree that he isn't suitable for her any longer, I refuse to make things more miserable for him right now."

"I agree," Cora said softly. "I imagine as Edith sees more and more of, she will see that any future with him would be short lived and heart breaking. But even if she doesn't, I trust Sir Anthony to do the right by her. He may have lost his memory, but he is still a gentleman, and a very caring one at that. He won't want to drag Edith into his misery."

The Dowager harrumphed and then sighed. "Well, I reserve the right to say I told you so, when they announce their intentions to marry. By then it will be too late to break them apart."

"Don't worry, Mama. It won't come to that," Robert said. "I'm not suggesting we give them free rein. If it does seem they are getting too close, then I will step in. But for now, let's just be patient and trust that the situation will take care of itself."

Cora saw the unsatisfied expression on the Dowager's face, even if Robert missed it. Inwardly, she sighed. There would be heartbreak for her Edith, she feared.


	3. Chapter 3

As always, you all are the best! I love the Andith ship and all who are aboard! Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and general good will.

I'm finding that juggling 4 stories at once is quite challenging but also keeps the muse busy and out of hiding. I do hope you enjoy the latest in this story. Now, back to the other 3. Am I insane or what?

* * *

Almost a week after his arrival at Downton, Dr. Clarkson declared that it was time for Anthony to get out of his room and move about a bit. "Perhaps even a short walk on the grounds," he'd said. "But do not overdo it. Take it slowly at first. Your body is still quite weak from all that it has been put through and it will take time to regain your strength."

When Edith came in later, Anthony told her the news. "I am to move around more," he said, almost happily. "The good doctor says I am to take it slowly but I'm no longer to lay about like an invalid."

"Oh, that's wonderful," she exclaimed. "Shall we try it now?"

"Yes, but, erm…. He left that," Anthony said as he pointed to a piece of cloth that rested on the table beside his bed. "He said when ever I am up, sitting or standing, I should wear it to support the arm. He said otherwise it will strain the shoulder and make the pain much worse."

Having seen Anthony's grimaces at even the slightest movement, Edith reached for the cloth. "Then will shall consider this your flag of freedom. Wearing this, you will be quite free of the pain that comes with stressing your shoulder and you'll be free to move about."

"Yes, alright," he said as he looked at it disdainfully.

Edith caught his expression. "You don't like it?"

"I don't like the idea of it. People will see me wearing that white cloth and know I am damaged and they will treat me differently."

"Perhaps in time you won't need it as much," she replied. "But for now, then perhaps it is wisest to wear it. After all, every man here is wearing a bandage or wrappings of some sort. You'd be quite out of place, if you weren't."

A shy smile crept into Anthony's features. "You always seem to make things seem so much less unbearable."

"Good. Because you do the same for me. Now let's get you trussed up and we'll go exploring. You've seen Downton before but you don't remember it. This will be an adventure then."

"Yes, an adventure," he sighed as Edith busied herself with the sling.

When his new adventure began, Anthony realized it would be a short one. His legs were weak and wobbly at best and he found himself leaning either into the wall or Edith. While he preferred the latter, he know it wasn't proper. Still…. he couldn't deny to little thrill it sent through him each time they touched.

They made it down the hall and onto the front hall that overlooked the stairs and the main hall below. He stood, holding the bannister tightly to keep his balance as he looked down. There were several men at tables, playing cards and other games. Edith was right, most did seem to be wearing bandages, standards for their injuries, just as he did. He saw a few of the nurses as they passed through, stopping sometimes to check on a patient. There were members of the house staff too, hurrying through as they went about their tasks. It was all reasonably quiet, considering the numbers in the hall below. "It was kind of your family to open your home like this," he said as he turned to Edith.

Edith smiled. "Yes, and…. No… Cousin Isobel suggested it, threw the idea out like a gauntlet and of course, Granny picked it up. Papa wasn't thrilled but I think saw a way to be useful. Mama thought it a good idea too. Sybil, of course, was entirely on Isobel's side. And Mary, well…. she was Mary."

"Are you certain she is your sister?" Anthony blurted. Then blushing, he tried to get out of the mess he'd just made of things. "I mean, you and Lady Sybil are so sweet and kind and she…. Well, perhaps she is the most like your grandmother?" Then he blushed again as he realized he had only made it worse.

Edith, however, giggled. "I do love that about you, Anthony. You always see things as they are and beyond the first dinner where you were invited as a potential husband for Mary, you never seemed overly impressed with her charm and didn't let her manipulate you as other men do. Well, at least not until the garden party, anyway. " Her face saddened as she finished.

"Edith?" Anthony had been delighted with her giggles but his heart plummeted as her demeanor changed.

"We had such a nice time together," she said as she looked up at him. "You would take me for drives in your Rolls and we laughed. You told me stories about your travels and you even shared a little about your wife. You were embarrassed to at first, I think. But it was nice, the glimpses you gave me of how marriage would be with you. And then you said you had an important question for me and would ask me at the garden party. But Mary got to you first. I'm not certain what she said to you, but I am certain it hurt you and shook your confidence in us being happy together." Tears sat in her eyes. "As angry as I was with her for what she had done to me, I was even more angry that she had hurt you. You always seemed confident and self-assured when we were together, but that afternoon you were nervous and anxious to leave. You never asked your question. And I never saw you again until you came here to recover."

Anthony stared down at Edith, aghast. "I shouldn't have left like that."

"No, you shouldn't have, but not because you behaved in an ungentlemanly manner. No, you shouldn't have left because whatever Mary said…. It wasn't true. I adored you, still do. You listened to me, took me seriously, when no one else ever has. And you were so kind and caring and sweet and gentle. And when you looked at me, your eyes shining with the brightest, yet softest blue I've ever seen, your expression reflecting how we felt about one another, I just couldn't imagine being any happier than I was then."

"Oh Edith, I wish we could go back to that day, but we can't. And I'm not that man any longer. He sounds like a nice chap, but I don't remember him, don't you see? And I have no idea who I am now. I'm afraid I'm a dreadful old bore, and a crippled one at that, but with no memory everything is so…. bewildering."

"You're the same man, I think. More reserved, probably. And perhaps less confident. No, I know you are less confident. But that really isn't surprising. And you are wounded, not just your arm but your spirit, deep in your soul. But even with all that, I think the Anthony I knew before the war is still here, with me."

"Edith, please don't…"

"Don't? Don't what? Love you? I'm sorry, but it is far too late for that. I've loved you since that very first drive that summer, I think. And I will continue to love you….forever. But for now, while you are finding yourself again, I will be content if we are just friends."

"I would like for us to be that, friends. But please don't expect anything more of me. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

"For now, all I expect of you, my darling man, is that you work to heal. Once you've healed, we'll worry about the rest."

He looked at her with no small amount of consternation. "Yes, alright… for now. But please understand, your future does not lie with me."

"We'll see," Edith said as she took his good arm to turn him for the walk back to his room. As the shuffled along the corridor, Anthony ruminated on their conversation. He couldn't see how he could have been any more clear about her prospects and yet she seemed to determined to hold onto him, or at the least the hope of him, of them together. And he knew that he was being selfish in clinging to the hope that perhaps she would continue to hold on. Somehow, her confidence that they belonged together was the only thread of hope he could manage to hang onto himself. If he were to lose her, he feared he would melt away into nothingness.


	4. Chapter 4

This one is a long chapter, for me anyway. But Edith and Anthony took over and my fingers became their instruments of expression. Do drop me a line. It feeds the little bunnies that the muse loves so much.

Oh, and on a different note- there are lots of stories sitting out there that require endings. I know we are all busy, but being absorbed in reading a wonderful story only to have it dropped is very disappointing. Let's all review our old stories and make sure we have finished them or get busy trying to finish them. And yes, I know I have 3 floating adrift looking for port right now. But if we all get back to those adrift stories, wouldn't that be a wonderful lead up to the holidays?

* * *

Edith's attention was the only thing Anthony lived for. It wasn't as if there was anyone or any thing else in his life for him to focus on. But as much pleasure as he took in her company, her attentions worried him as well. He felt as if her feelings for him were growing, that she was feeling more for him each day. He knew his feelings for her had grown. Of course, in the beginning she had only been a picture in his pocket, a way to escape his miserable existence. The real version of the young woman was so much better than any of his imaginings, he mused one afternoon as he sat outside in a lawn chair. He watched her as she moved among the men, offering help here and there, covering one with a blanket, sitting to read a letter from home to another who's eyes had been burned by mustard gas, writing a letter home for a man who had lost his arm. With his attention so focused on Edith, he did not see that the attention of someone else was focused on him.

Edith's attentiveness to one particular patient did not escape Richard Clarkson. It worried him, in fact. And that patient's focus on her worried him as well. Even without the memory loss, Sir Anthony's recovery would not be an easy one, Dr. Clarkson knew. So many of his patients came to him as new acquaintances but not so with Sir Anthony. Clarkson had known the man or years, seen him and his late wife through several of her miscarriages, and of course, the final one. Dr. Clarkson knew Sir Anthony to be a man of deep feelings, but also a strong sense of duty; a man who had one foot into the modern world of innovation and one firmly rooted in the ideals of his Victorian roots. As he observed Anthony Strallan watching Lady Edith, Dr. Clarkson understood that although Sir Anthony had no memory of his past self, he was acting very much within his sense of honor. As much as the man craved her attention, he was not encouraging it; no, it was she who was insisting. He worried for Lady Edith but he worried even more for Sir Anthony. He was unsure how much more disappointment and hurt the man could survive.

Dr. Clarkson requested and received a copy of Sir Anthony's record because he thought there might be answers to what caused the memory loss. As he sat one afternoon in his office reading through the pages, he became frustrated that so much had been marked out. Clearly Sir Anthony had been involved in several secret operations which were kept in secret still. The place names that jumped from the pages sent chills through the doctor. Sir Anthony had begun the war in Belgium in places like Dinant and Leuven where he had witnessed German atrocities, no doubt. Clarkson remembered the reports in the newspapers from the first few months of the war about civilians gunned down in the streets for no apparent reason beyond terrorizing the population. Old men and infants alike were victims. There were reports of rapes, even nuns, and mass executions. Some faced firing squads, some were burned alive. If Sir Anthony had witnessed that…. Well, it was no wonder that the man wanted to forget. Apparently, he met up with the British Expeditionary Force at Ypres, where he no doubt witnessed the atrocities there, including the torching of the cathedral. The Germans had been brutal, barbaric even and Clarkson remembered one article that had referred to the German river of blood in Belgium.

Sir Anthony went from there to various places where his intelligence work was needed but he only stayed briefly until Verdun, where he wintered and remained until early Spring of '16. From what little that was in the report that hadn't been marked through, Clarkson surmised that Sir Anthony had been involved in much of the early intelligence gathering for the Battle of the Somme. From there, he was sent back to Ypres, was at Messines in early summer of '17 and went missing from Passchendaele sometime in the late summer. He was found by the Americans near Cambrai near the end of the year. He had no memory of anything that happened before October, when he was moved by the Germans to the house where he'd been found. He could remember talk among his captors of the Battle of Broodseinde, which was early that month.

As Richard Clarkson closed the file, he shook his head sadly. Sir Anthony had certainly seen and perhaps done more than should be required of any one man. The doctor thought perhaps that Anthony Stallan could be counted among the most wounded of any of the soldiers returning from the war. Contemplating the obvious attraction between Sir Anthony and Lady Edith, he thought Sir Anthony could benefit from that relationship if all went well, but if it didn't the man might be destroyed by it. His concern for Lady Edith weighed in his mind also. Caring for someone as wounded as Sir Anthony would take a toll. Was she strong enough? It was a situation that would need watching.

The following day, the good doctor was gratified to see Sir Anthony making the effort to move about more, encouraged by Lady Edith no doubt. It was a beautiful day and she was leading the baronet across the lawn toward on of the follies on the property, taking him further from the house than he'd ventured before. Judging by his strides, Sir Anthony was getting his strength back. Clarkson smiled at the scene briefly before returning his attention to the new patient, a burn victim who was from Canada.

"Where are you taking me?" Anthony asked Edith as they made their way across the garden.

"Jack Dawe's Castle," she replied as she pointed toward their destination.

He looked ahead to what appeared to be a miniature castle sitting atop a slope. "One castle wasn't enough?" he chuckled as he glanced back at Downton.

"The first Earl, or maybe it was the second, I'm not sure…. Anyway, one of the Earls before my grandfather's time, brought in the premier English landscaper of the time to design the gardens. He had several follies designed and built as features for the gardens. This one is closest to the house. And when I was younger, I would come here to get away. Before the war, when we were keeping company, I came here sometimes just to … to think about you, about us, what being married to you might be like." Edith blushed at her confession.

Anthony stopped walking and stared after her. Sensing he was no longer moving, Edith turned and walked back to him. "Is something wrong?" His incredulous expression worried her.

"You… you thought…. We were… I knew, from what you've said before that we were spending time together, that… that… there was something. But… married? We were to be married?"

"Well, you never actually got around to asking, but…"

Anthony's brow furrowed. "Yes, you said something when I first arrived. Your sister intervened somehow… But I suppose I never realized… Why would you consider me as a suitable match, even then?"

"Yes, Mary did intervene. You had told me a few days earlier that you had a very important question to ask me at the garden party, that I should think carefully about my answer. And I did, very carefully. And I knew that my answer would be yes. Because you see, we were so perfectly suited, I thought. I was very young and you were very patient with me, with my… naiveté. I really was young and quite artless, still am, artless, I mean. The war has taken away all that youthful innocence, I think." She paused a moment and then seeing that he was still trying to grasp why she might have been interested in him, she decided to try again. "You saw me, Anthony, saw things in me that I didn't even realize were there. And you brought me out of myself, gave me confidence. I was always over looked here at Downton, the middle daughter, the helpful one, never the pretty one or the talented one or the smart one… just dutiful. You saw me as so much more than that and I loved you for it, still love you for it. And you were so very handsome and kind… gentle. And we have similar interests, both quiet, a bit shy, bookish even. I was always so happy in your company. I felt I had finally found me, who I was, and I could be that person with you. I still feel all that when I am with you."

He looked at her mystified. "How could they not see how special you are?" His question was almost a whisper.

"Anthony, you are the only person who has seen me as special. How could I not love you, want to spend my life with you, when you are the only person who has even come close to understanding me?"

"But…"

She reached for his hand and turned. "Come on, I think I am overwhelming you. Enough for now. Let's keep going …" she said as she set off for the folly again. All Anthony could do was follow.

The distance of the walk and the pace she set after their conversation had winded Anthony. "Please, can we sit?" he asked as they reached her destination.

"Yes, here," she replied as she sat on a step and leaned against a pillar, watching him as he did the same across from her.

Glancing inside the structure, he let his mind rest as well as his body. Being with Edith stirred so many things within him and had he not been made breathless by their walk, he suspected that the emotions and myriad of thoughts that churned within him would have created the same effect. He could feel her watching him and fought the temptation to look at her. Temptation seemed to be her greatest influence on him.

He still couldn't quite grasp that she felt so overlooked, that her family did not recognize the gem that she truly was. And why she didn't have swarms of young bucks at her feet was a mystery to him. God, what he would give to be worthy of her. But of course, he wasn't. He was far too old, although from what she said, that hadn't worried anyone before the war. Perhaps that alone might have been managed. But now, his wounds and his lack of memory…. Well, a battered old man simply would not do for someone as lovely and vivacious as Lady Edith Crawley.

He felt her look change from simple observation to curiosity and he chanced a glance in her direction. "What?"

"I'm wondering what you are thinking. You look so… forlorn."

"Not much really. Just wondering where the battalions of young men are who should be groveling before you, begging your attention."

Edith laughed; it was a sad laugh but it was laughter. "No one has ever groveled before me and certainly never begged my attention, unless it was Mama asking me to help or Mary wishing my full attention while she berated me."

"I'm afraid I cannot understand," he said softly. "Has everyone gone blind and lost their senses?"

"You're doing it again," she smiled.

"What am I doing?"

"Making me feel less worthless, more confident. You've always done that for me."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I wish…"

"What do you wish?"

"I wish I had married you before the war." His declaration was honest and forceful.

"I have wished that since that day you left the garden party. I keep thinking that if we had married, you wouldn't have gone to war. But then I remember that you were already being sent to the continent before the war on fact finding missions. I suspect you would have either volunteered or been drafted into service anyway."

Anthony grappled with that idea. "I cannot answer that question since I have no idea what I might have been thinking then. But if I had volunteered after marrying you, I do know that would have been rather foolish of me."

"Why do you say that," she asked as her head tilted.

"Only a very foolish man would leave you to go to war."

"There you are again, feeding my feelings of self-worth."

"I think I must have felt like a giant among men when I was with you," he said softly, almost breathlessly.

"Anthony, you are a giant among men, if only because of your height," she tittered.

He smiled at that. "Yes, well…" As he watched her face, her amusement evident, his eyes settled on her mouth, her lips. "Did we…. When we were together on those rides you have described or… or perhaps the night of that concert, did we ever…." He sighed, unable to voice his question.

"Did we ever…what?" Since he was staring at her lips, Edith thought she knew what he wanted to ask. "Did we ever kiss? Is that what you mean?"

"Er, yes. I …. I know I'm being quite … improper." His eyes drifted away, towards a tree near the structure. He was clearly embarrassed by the question.

"We didn't. I wish we had. I dreamed of it every night.

Anthony's eyes darted back to her. "You…. You dreamed of it?"

"Yes, I did," she said with a small smile. "I still do."

"But… why?" His eyes were on her lips again.

"I …. Well, I haven't been kissed but twice and I think a kiss from you would be so much better than either of my previous ones."

His eyes met hers. "Kissed twice? By whom?"

"The first was my cousin, Patrick. I think he was just trying to perfect his kissing but I was quite taken by it. The second was one of Papa's tenants. It was quite improper and he was married but I liked it. Still, I think being kissed by you would so much nicer."

"A married man kissed you?" Anthony was appalled. "He should be punished. Does your father know?"

"Heavens no. Papa shouldn't lose a perfectly good tenant because I threw myself at the man."

Anthony frowned. "You… you threw yourself at him?"

"Well, not exactly. I was a bit naive, actually. But when I realized, I didn't balk. I wanted him to kiss me. Just as I want you to kiss me, now."

"Edith," he sighed. She wanted to kiss him. How could she? But then another thought took hold. Glancing back down the slope to the house, he stood up. "Let's, mmm, let's see what inside this structure." To Edith he sounded nervous and a little more than intrigued.

She followed him beyond the pillars to a corner at the far end. He stood looking out at the other side of the garden, seeming to study the plants there. "Are you certain?"

She smiled, knowing what would come next. "Very."

He turned, smiling down at her timidly. "I can't remember if I'm even any good at it," he said meekly. "But I would like very much to find out."

"So would I," she said as she took a step toward him.

Anthony lifted his hand to her face, cradling her cheek. "You are so lovely," he whispered. "You must be the loveliest thing I've ever seen."

"Says the man who has no memory," Edith chuckled.

"Yes, no memory. But I do have feelings and it is what I feel."

Edith beamed. "I have feelings too, Anthony. And right now, all of my feelings are begging to be kissed."

"Yes, well, isn't that a coincidence. Everything within me is begging to kiss you." He leaned down to her, moving slowly, hovering almost, over her lips, his eyes half closed and his expression one of savoring a rare morsel. And then finally, his lips met hers. The kiss was tentative at first. But then he settled into it. And as she reciprocated, he began to relish this new connection. What began as timid and shy soon took on a life of its own and Anthony Strallan was soon in the throes of passion. Galloping right along with him was Edith, who was having some of her fondest dreams realized.

They stood there, kissing, first one and then another, followed by others for several minutes until Anthony felt his heart pounding in his chest and his breath stolen from him. Pulling away, only just enough to take in her visage, he let all the sensations of their kisses flow through him and as he saw his own feeling reflected back at him in her eyes, he began to shake.

Edith saw it before he even realized the panic that was overtaking him. "Come Anthony," she said as she grabbed his hand, "come sit." She led to a step on the backside of the structure and motioned for him to sit. He did without comment or even seeming to comprehend. He sat and he shook. "Anthony?" He turned to look at her briefly, a blank expression in his eyes, and then he seemed to withdraw into himself as he continued to shake. Edith did the only thing she could think of that might help. She embraced him as fully as she could with her small frame and whispered that he was safe, he was alright, he was safe. It became a mantra that she repeated until her words permeated his mind and it became his internal mantra. He was safe, he was alright…. Slowly his panic abated and he began to come back to himself. He became aware that he was being held, that she, his lovely Edith was holding him, and soothing him with her voice.

As the panic abated another emotion took hold, shame. He felt the sting in his eyes as the shame of his situation gripped him. He was weak, coming undone in that way with her, all because of what, a few kisses? Yes, he was weak, broken… not worthy of her at all. What sort of man behaved like that, especially in the presence of the woman he loved. And yes, he knew that he loved her. But it didn't matter. She deserved so much better than anything he could offer. Once the shaking stopped, he took a deep breath and declared that they should go back to the house. He was tired and needed to rest. Realizing how very troubled he was by what just happened, Edith said nothing but merely stood to walk back with him.

As they approached the door Edith caught his left hand to get his attention. The sadness in his expression as he turned to look at her nearly shattered her. But she said what she needed to say anyway. "You are not to blame yourself, Anthony. And I won't allow you to think that you are less than you are because of what happened. You are still healing. I don't see you as weak or defective, simply that you are wounded and need time to find yourself again. I know you need to rest now. And I have others to tend to. But tonight, when all is quiet, I will lie awake and relive your kisses today, and I will relish each one. They were ever so much better than any of my dreams. "

She thought his eyes might pop right out of his head at her declaration, but he said nothing. As they crossed the threshold, he merely took her hand and placed the gentlest of kisses on her knuckles before he peeled off to go upstairs to his room. It was Edith's turn to shake as she watched him leave her; it felt as if someone had just walked over her grave.


	5. Chapter 5

Many apologies for being away for so long. We're caring for a relative in hospice and no doubt, I'll be in and out for awhile. Not looking for sympathy or anything, just explaining why I'll be a bit erratic. But this story has been pestering me and kind of writing itself in my head, so I've stolen a few minutes to type up a chapter. I do hope everyone is well. I'm dreadfully behind in my reading and even when I've had a moment or two to check in on a story, I've failed to leave comments. Sorry, but I'm usually checking in on my phone and chewing up my data usage. But it is comforting to know that the Andith ship is still sailing. BTW, who's excited about the movie in the Fall?

For now though, happy reading!

* * *

Anthony hurried back to his room, his mind in turmoil. It had been the loveliest of times, his walk with Edith. But it had also been some of his worst moments. The kisses had been magnificent, taking him far outside and away from the despair that seemed to haunt him each day. But what came after, that was worse than any torture he had faced at the hands of the Germans. He had collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable shaking, which was bad enough, but to have Edith there, witnessing his disgrace, consoling him even, had been horrific. She had told him not to blame himself and he didn't; he blamed the war. But still, he had been left weak and now, now he had exposed her to his debilitated state. His arm was bad enough but for her to see him so…. so pathetically feeble, was humiliating. How could he face her again?

But then he remembered what else she had said, that she would lie awake and relive his kisses, relish them even. How could she possibly say that? Why would she want to even think about the kisses of such an obviously pathetic, contemptible man? Pity, that was it, the answer to why. She pitied him and in her mind that somehow became a sort of attraction. That must be it. Well, he would put a stop to that. He didn't want pity from her, he supplied enough of that himself. And he wouldn't burden her with his dismal situation. No, she deserved far more than anything he had to offer.

Later that afternoon, Anthony was visited by Dr. Clarkson. Anthony saw his chance. "You must transfer me to another hospital," Anthony told him.

"But why? Are you not comfortable here? Do you feel we haven't looked after you properly?" The doctor thought he knew one plausible explanation but wanted to force Sir Anthony to speak of it.

"No… erm, yes, I mean…" Anthony began to pace. "Its just that… well, Lady Edith…. I erm, she and I …" He stopped and stared out of his window, spying the folly in the distance.

Clarkson stood patiently for a moment. Something must have happened on the walk earlier. They had been going towards the folly. Now Sir Anthony was staring in that direction with such a look of longing. "You and Lady Edith?" Clarkson asked.

"Yes," Anthony groaned as he turned to face the doctor. "I'm afraid I behaved rather ungentlemanly towards her this afternoon and I'm sure she would be more comfortable if I were to leave."

"That's odd; I just spoke with her a little while ago. She said nothing like that. She said you'd done quite well on your walk. But that you'd become upset and started shaking. Do you know what upset you, Sir Anthony?"

Anthony blinked. "She didn't tell you?"

"No. I gathered that she didn't understand why you were upset."

"I… well, I kissed her…. Several times, actually." He closed his eyes as the feelings of those kisses flowed through him in waves. Oddly, it somehow calmed him.

"She didn't seem upset about anything like that," Clarkson said. "In fact, she said she'd rather enjoyed the walk." He watched for Anthony's response.

Anthony glanced back out of the window. "She… she didn't tell you how ghastly the shaking became?"

"She said the shaking seemed to come over you quite suddenly and other than your clenched jaw, your expression was quite blank. Apparently, she held you while you suffered the worst of it? She also said it didn't last very long but that it was quite intense. She's seen it before, you know, with some of our other patients and most of the nurses have become quite adept at helping the men through it. Lady Edith must've learned from watching the nurses how to manage an episode. I'm relieved that you didn't have to suffer it alone. Is this the first time you've had such an episode?"

But Anthony was absorbing what the doctor had said. "You've had others that shake like that?"

Clarkson inhaled deeply. Did the man not know it was common among men who had been traumatized? "Yes, usually patients who have seen the worst, suffered some trauma even beyond their wounds, that display the behavior. I've observed that with time, the episodes fade." He watched as Anthony took in the full meaning of what he had said.

"But I don't remember anything," Anthony finally said. "I don't know if I suffered any such trauma."

"You most certainly did, Sir Anthony," Clarkson replied. "Your experience as a prisoner, which you do remember, would be enough to cause your reaction. But I took the liberty of requesting your file. You may not remember, but you were at some of the worst places and in some of the worst battles of the war. You've seen and been involved in much more than any other patient I've come across. It's no wonder your mind wants to forget."

Anthony had been gazing out of the window again but his whipped around at the doctor's words. "You… you think I have forgotten intentionally? The memory loss isn't a result of some injury?"

"Oh, you probably did suffer some sort of injury to your head that healed, a blow or perhaps you were near an explosion. I've seen several injuries from just being too near an explosion. But no, every doctor that has seen you believes that your memory loss is your mind protecting you from something. Eventually, as your mind is ready, most of your memory should return but I daresay that there are some things, events, that you will never recall. "

"But my life before the war…. I might regain that memory?" Anthony asked hopefully.

"Oh, I believe you will, in time. Your record indicates you've witnessed far most than a man should. Those things will probably remain hidden forever, or at least for a very long time. But other memories will eventually start to return."

Anthony frowned. "But if I can't recall those traumatic events, how can you be sure that the shaking episodes will stop?"

"Was today the first time you've had one?"

"No, it has happened several times. This is the first time anyone has been with me when it happened though."

Clarkson paused. How had it been missed at the other hospitals? "No one saw you having these episodes?"

"No," Anthony replied certainly.

Releasing a deep sigh, Dr. Clarkson nodded. "Well, please inform me whenever you have one. I can chart the episodes and we'll be able to tell when they begin to abate."

"Yes, alright. But you are sure they will eventually?"

"Eventually, yes."

Dr. Clarkson turned to leave, his mind still grappling with the idea that no one had witnessed the shaking episodes before now. But Sir Anthony stopped him. "Dr. Clarkson?"

The doctor turned to answer, "yes?"

"Lady Edith really didn't seem upset by my …. By the episode?" He couldn't look at the doctor as he asked, but he needed to know. He wasn't sure why he needed to know, but he did.

"She was upset, but not in the way most women would be, if that is what you are getting at. She was concerned for you but it didn't send her into a fit of vapors or such nonsense. And she wanted to know how she might help you through anymore episodes. "

Anthony was astonished. "She wants to help me through them?" His face showed his distress as Clarkson watched him. "No, I don't want her to…"

"Sir Anthony, if I may…. well, offer this. You will need help from time to time, even after you are released from here. And who better to be there to help you than someone who cares for you? And I am convinced Lady Edith cares for you, deeply."

Anthony shook his head, "No, she mustn't." Clarkson watched him patiently, waiting for the man to explain. "She is so young and… lovely… and… vibrant. I'm so much older and now… " his frustration began to mount, "now I have this useless arm and…And I can't remember a damned thing!" He bellowed.

It was a rare thing, Richard Clarkson knew, for Sir Anthony to yell like that. He mentally marked it as a sign of the man's vexation over his condition. "Well, there isn't much we can do for your arm, that's true," he said. "I expect at least some of your memory to return eventually. But even if it never comes back, does it really matter?" Sir Anthony looked at him incredulously. "Lady Edith cares for you, Sir Anthony, with or without your memory."

"Yes, but is it the man I was before that she cares for? She doesn't even know the man I am now; I don't know who I am now."

"Oh, I think the man you are now and the man you were before are much the same," Clarkson offered. "Obviously you have changed, you've been to war and suffered as a result. But the Sir Anthony Strallan from before the war is still with us."

Anthony's blue eyes glistened as he stared at the doctor. "I wish I knew that man," he replied flatly.

"Give yourself time. And I would add, give Lady Edith a chance."

"But I'm too old. Surely you can see that?"

"I'll tell you what I've seen. I've watched a young woman who has struggled to fit in, to find understanding, and therefore had become something of a wall flower become quite animated since you arrived. She had a sense of purpose with the men before, but now her step is lighter and she smiles more. I'll admit that I have been concerned with her fondness for you with your condition. But when she came to me earlier about your episode, my worries ceased. She was very collected, not the least hysterical. She was intent on finding a way to help you. And she wouldn't be put off; she demanded answers. And in all that, I saw the depth of her feelings for you and I can assure you that your age does not matter to her, nor does your arm. And your memory loss concerns her because it frustrates you. But she is unphased by it all. You are a lucky man, Sir Anthony. I wish all of our wounded soldiers could return to such devotion."

"Yes, yes… it is quite lucky for me. But what about her? IF I …. If we… well, it just wouldn't be fair to her. She deserves someone so much younger and….whole."

"Perhaps. But there aren't many young men returning whole. And as for fairness, nothing is fair in this. You coming back wounded isn't fair. The men downstairs, some who've lost limbs or their eyesight is damaged or they've been burned beyond recognition… the list goes on and on; none of that is fair. I believe the best we can do is take what we are given and make the most of it. For you, it might mean accepting the devotion of a determined young woman, whether you believe you are deserving or not. And for her, it might mean having the devotion of an older, wounded man who adores her and will take the time to understand and support her."

"But she would be widowed so young," Anthony lamented.

Clarkson chuckled. "Well, I didn't know we had progressed to marriage just yet. But if you were to marry, I will remind you that both your parents lived quite long, active lives. I see no reason why you wouldn't do so as well."

"They did?" Anthony asked, his surprise apparent.

"Yes, they did. Your father was well into his eighties and your other almost lived to be one hundred. I would think you have at least another thirty or forty years ahead of you. You can spend those years tottering around at Locksley alone or you can spend them in the company of someone who will dote on you. I have no experience myself, but I have often thought that people live longer when they have someone with them." Clarkson finished and exited quickly, leaving Anthony with much to consider.


	6. Chapter 6

My apologies for being gone for so long and leaving this in limbo, along with a couple of other stories I have floating around as well. All I can say is we've been through a rather rough patch but are finally beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel. Losing three much loved people and a beloved dog in the course of only a few weeks really sets one back a bit. And then there's all the aftermath that has to be managed. And to put a tin lid on it, my car died. As we live several miles out from town, a car is quite necessary and Old Blue dying was just darned inconvenient.  
But I hope this makes up somewhat for my absence. Happy reading!

* * *

"Do you not recognize me?" he asked Edith.

Edith tried to look past the bandages, to find his eyes, to hear something familiar in his voice, but she was at a loss. Major Patrick Gordon seemed to think they knew one another but she didn't believe she'd ever met him before. Still, there was something familiar about him….

He was Canadian, brought to Downton to recover from his wounds, mostly extensive burns over his face and hands. He was also claiming to be their cousin, Patrick Crawley, who had been reported drowned aboard the Titanic six years ago. Edith was skeptical but yet…. there was something. Perhaps she should get to know him a little better, she thought. It would be wonderful having Patrick back. But then, what would that do to Matthew? It all was very unsettling.

Once she would have delighted in having him back for other reasons than just that he was their cousin and they had grown up together. Once she would have thought she was in love with him. And she knew she had loved him all those years ago. But meeting Anthony and learning something more about love, she knew what she felt for Patrick was not like being _in love_. Anthony had shown her that there was so much more to _those_ feelings. And as she contemplated all that, her mind went to Anthony, wondering how he was doing after his shaking episode. Dr. Clarkson had said he would speak with Anthony but maybe she should pop in on him too. But first, there was Patrick Gordon. She must tell Papa.

"What is the matter?" Anthony asked her when she went to his room later. Edith didn't know how to answer. But as he watched her, his eyes sparkling in that clear, inquiring way of his, she knew she had to say something. "There's a patient, Major Gordon, who claims to be our cousin who died on the Titanic."

She could feel his gaze on her as she looked down, contemplating what it all might mean. Finally, she looked up at him. "He says he survived but has had amnesia all this time. That's why he never contacted us."

"But what has changed? Why does he suddenly remember? Do you believe him?"

"I'm not sure if I believe him. I want to and there is something familiar about him but he sounds so different. And of course, with his burns there is no way to tell… It would be wonderful to have Patrick back, but… well, then what happens to Matthew? It is all very confusing."

"Why would this cousin's return have anything to do with your Cousin Matthew?"

"Patrick was to be Papa's heir. He and Mary were engaged before. It hadn't been announced or anything but there was an understanding. Patrick would inherit the title and Downtown and he and Mary would marry, keeping it all nice and tidy, since Papa never had a son. But then he and his father were lost when the Titanic sank and so Matthew, a distant cousin, became heir. For awhile we all thought he and Mary might marry but something happened between them and now she is engaged to Sir Richard and Matthew… well, it is unlikely he will have any heirs. It's all very unfair really."

"Yes, it would seem." Anthony watched Edith for a moment, noticing how glum it seemed to make her. "You said you want to believe this man, this Patrick Gordan? What does your father make of all this?"

Edith sighed. "I haven't had a chance to tell Papa. But I will when he returns. And I do want to believe him. I loved Patrick. For a long time, I thought it should be me marrying him instead of Mary. She didn't love him at all, or at least only loved him in the way that one loves a cousin and I thought I was in love with him. But after I met you and we spent time together, I began to understand that while I loved Patrick, I was never in love with him. I'll always love him, I suppose. But my feelings for him are really more of what one might feel for a brother than those one might feel for … a lover." Her eyes glistened as she looked at him, almost as if she was entreating him to be the latter. Her expression stirred something deep within Anthony.

"Edith…."

But she looked away and took a step back. "I know. I shouldn't think of you in that way. But how can I not," her eyes training themselves on him again, "after you kissed me as you did?"

"I'm afraid I took liberties," he replied softly, taking a step toward her. "I find that I…. well, find you quite tempting, enchanting really." Anthony swallowed the large knot that had formed in his throat. "Dr. Clarkson said he worried about us, about your devotion to me and that you might be hurt. But when he visited earlier, he told me he isn't worried any longer. You see, he said that he believes you will be able to manage with my…infirmities. He said that having you at my side might be better for me and that there might be benefits for you as well."

Edith was gazing at him again. "He said that?"

"Yes. And while on one hand I find it quite improbable that I have anything to offer you, I confess that I… I would like it very much if that were true."

"But you do! You really do," Edith exclaimed. Taking a step closer to him, she continued. "You offer me so much. I know you can't remember from before so you have no idea what it was like for me. I was nothing more than a wall flower, caught between Mary's beauty and Sybil's charm, I was the middle daughter, dutiful and attentive. Never the attractive one, or the funny one, or the bright one, or anyone really. But when I was with you, I felt I was all those things. No one other than you has ever made me feel those things about myself. I would love you for just that, if there weren't so many other things that I grew to love about you. And still, I look back and realize how naïve I was, how childish my love was in a way. But now, so much has changed. I've changed, grown. And yet, when I look at you or think of you, I feel as if I might burst with the love I have for you. I wish I could make you see that, understand it."

Anthony gazed down at her, stepping slightly toward her again without realizing it. "I wish I could believe that I do that for you. I want to believe it. I … well, I want to believe so much that we might, in time… have an understanding."

Edith saw in his eyes what was he was trying to say but not quite ready to admit and knew that she shouldn't push him, not now. "For now, I find that quite enough, that you want to believe we have a future. We have time, I am in no hurry. You still must heal and settle back into your life here in the county. But I'll warn you now, Anthony Strallan, that I won't give up on you," she said with a smile. Then quite unexpectedly, she leaned up and kissed him rather soundly on the cheek before turning to glide out of the room.

Anthony was left somewhat stunned and quite a bit hopeful, more hopeful than he had been since he first woke in that torture chamber back in France. "Oh, how I pray that you do not," he whispered aloud as he gazed after her disappearing figure.

Edith did tell her father about Patrick Gordon later that day, which led to a family meeting that evening. It was awful. She wasn't certain that she believed the man's story but Mary's reaction put her on edge and she found herself trying to defend him. Papa would have the story checked and that satisfied Edith. Still, she found his story compelling. What she couldn't decide with certainty was if her desire to know him better was because he might really be their Patrick or if it was simply to bother Mary. Her sister's reaction made Edith wonder what bothered Mary, perhaps it was that with Patrick back the old expectation to marry him might resurface, even though she was engaged to Richard Carlisle, or was she really arguing on Matthew's account? And if she was, did that mean that Mary's feelings for him were still deep? It was puzzling. She decided to get to know this new Patrick, or Peter, better. Perhaps she could settle her own thoughts on who he was.

When Edith visited Anthony the next morning, he wasn't quite sure how he should behave. After all, his admissions on the previous day about his desire for them to grow closer had put them on a new level of sorts. It wasn't what was before or what might have been if… No, now it was what might they become. He found the notion quite thrilling but also very frightening. Consequently, he was quiet with her, almost shy. His demeanor worried Edith, he could tell. But he simply didn't know how to behave with her. He wanted desperately to kiss her again but thought it might be too forward and certainly her father would consider that he was taking liberties to which he was not entitled. And he wasn't entitled to them, of course. But mundane, polite conversation seemed so leaden in light of the feelings that were welling inside of him. Yet somehow, her very presence also seemed to soothe another part of him, the part that had been broken by the war.

He was absolutely tingling with anticipation and excitement. But fear lurked in the back of his mind too. What if his age or his arm or his memory became too much for her? What would her father have to say about any sort of future between them? He wouldn't be pleased, Anthony knew. And for good reason. Anthony had no idea what it was to be a father but he thought that if he had a daughter, he would not let her near someone like him. He wanted so much to explore what a future with Edith might mean. But he also was afraid that if he let his feelings grow, he might be deeply hurt by either her rejection or more likely, her family's. And even more upsetting was the prospect that she would be hurt. And so, he found that speaking was difficult and was forced to content himself with simply looking at her.

Edith knew that she was babbling as she visited Anthony that morning. He was so quiet that it worried her and she tended to talk to much when she was worried, well at least with him. With her family, she'd always found that silence was best in all situations. But with Anthony, she felt free to be herself, even if it meant babbling like a lunatic. He sat quietly, simply watching her as she talked, a small, pleased smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling with an expression of adoration. His expression gave her pause for a moment as she contemplated a lifetime as the object of that look. No one had ever looked at her like that before.

Her conversation was inane, she knew. Heavens, at one point she'd even been discussing Papa's dog. But Anthony didn't seem to mind. And so, she kept babbling for a few more minutes. He looked disappointed when she realized the time and had to leave. "I promised Captain Winters that I'd help him write a letter this morning," she explained. "And then, Lieutenant Darnley asked it I would walk with him before lunch."

"My goodness, I find I'm quite jealous of these younger men," Anthony replied in jest.

Edith, warmed by his words, leaned over to place a peck on his cheek but lingered a moment, simply to feel him close to her. "You, Major Strallan, have no reason to feel jealous. The officers here are my occupation, but _you_ my darling man, are my vocation in life."

Anthony smiled in the wake of her declaration. But as the day wore on, doubt began to overshadow his contentment. He wanted to be so much to Edith, her friend and confidant, her lover, her husband, perhaps even the father of her children. Her declaration that he was her vocation sounded an alarm however; did she see him as some sort of mission in life, putting him back together her life's work? His confidence about their future disappeared with the setting sun, falling below the horizon and leaving him in darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

_Vocation_. The word tumbled through Anthony's mind all through the night; that is, it tumbled between his bouts of sleeplessness and torturous dreams. The dreams were not new to him, images flashing through them of people who he couldn't recognize passing through the various torture chambers he'd been subjected to while being held captive. Some of the faces felt familiar while others were alien to him. But he could not put names to any. He finally woke, anxious and sweating just as the sun began to shine through his window. Relieved that the new day was finally upon him, he sat up and tried to collect his thoughts. But of course, the only thought that his mind would grasp was that vexing word "vocation".

He tried to sift through all his conversations with Edith, tried to see her comment in a different light, grasping at anything that might convince him that he was more than a vocation to her. Oh god, how had he come to this place? How had he let himself believe that she might want a life, a future, a real future as his wife; not his nurse or some assistant but as truly his wife? But he knew the answer. How could he not have fallen for her so completely? He'd spent months staring at her picture, caressing the edges, talking to her, creating a fantasy. Of course, he had believed that his fantasy might actually become real.

Anthony shook his head disparagingly. He was a fool. Edith was young and vibrant and full of color where he was old and dull and lifeless. And he didn't know who he was or where he belonged. And then there was his arm, he thought, as he looked down at the offending appendage as if it were the enemy. What could she possibly see in him other than a project, something broken and in need of mending? Not something, someone broken, his mind reminded him. Despite the dawn of a bright and promising day, Anthony Strallan was weighed down by dark and heavy storm clouds.

Dr. Clarkson's visit later that morning didn't help Anthony's mood much. The doctor explained that the arm was as healed as it ever would be. Anthony was to continue with the exercises he had been given just to keep the circulation in the arm which would keep it from shriveling too badly. "You must keep the circulation in the limb," Clarkson explained. "Otherwise, you could lose it altogether."

Anthony didn't reply but his thought was that it wouldn't matter one way or the other.

His mood darkened more when he later stood against the balustrade overlooking the main saloon. The source of his misery, Edith, was seated at one of the tables that filled the space to accommodate feeding so many men at once. Next to her, Anthony recognized the young man claiming to be Patrick Crawley. Edith had bee agonizing for several days about the young man's claim. Dear sweet, trusting Edith seemed to believe his claim.

Anthony knew that the rest of the family had their doubts. Edith's father had spoken with Anthony a few days before. "I know your situation is different," the Earl had said, "but I thought you might help me to understand. This man, Peter Gordon, says he lost his memory as a result of his experience on the Titanic. He claims to have gotten it back because of the blast that burned him so in battle. I'll admit that I am quite confused. How can that be?" Robert Crawley looked at him with questioning eyes, almost begging for Anthony to have an answer.

"My situation is different, I believe," Anthony had finally answered. "I haven't regained my memory, to begin with. But both Dr. Clarkson and Lady Edith say that my manner hasn't changed, that I act much the same and sound much the same. I've heard the young man speak. He doesn't speak like an Englishman. But perhaps he was in Canada long enough to acquire their way of speaking. That would be unusual though, I believe. I would think there would be some trace of his British upbringing."

As Anthony stood at the balustrade thinking, he remembered Robert's expression as he thanked Anthony for listening. The Earl didn't believe this Peter Gordon's story anymore than Anthony did. Heavens, the only reason he spoke four languages as a native was that he had been raised speaking them, even spending time in those countries as a child speaking nothing but the native languages. Anthony blinked. How did he know that? He couldn't answer but he knew it was true.

Before he could explore that revelation further, there was a commotion below. Looking down, he saw young Gordon had become agitated. "Why won't they believe me?" he bellowed as he swept his food from the table. Anthony's own agitation rose as he saw Gordon's effect on Edith. He could have strangled the young man right then, even if he did have the use of only one arm. His darling Edith looked absolutely mortified in Anthony's view. He wanted to go to her and try to comfort her, but he stood in his place. After all, he was broken too and he did not want to be the lovely young woman's vocation.

She must have sensed that he was watching because she looked up at him. He stood mesmerized as she smiled at him, her entire body relaxing as she took in the smile he offered in return. How _could_ he not smile when he realized that he was able to comfort her after all, even if from a distance? Even though his mind was warning him that he was being foolish, the rest of him just could not help but respond to her. Feeling drawn to her, he turned to make his way down when Lady Sybil approached her sister, whispering in her ear. The two hurried away quickly. _For the best, you old codger_ , he thought _. You would only make a fool of yourself._

Anthony was sitting quietly in one of the lawn chairs reading when Edith approached him later. "Hallo," she greeted him happily.

He could only look up and smile, returning her greeting, "hallo."

"I spoke with Dr, Clarkson earlier," she said softly. "He thought it might be a good idea if I were to drive you over to Locksley this afternoon."

"But why?" Inwardly he was afraid that this meant Clarkson was ready to send him home and Anthony didn't feel like he was ready, not just yet.

"Being in a familiar place, a place you knew very well before the war might jog a memory. It isn't likely, he said, but it could. And I, that is… we both thought you could perhaps do with a little time away from here."

Watching her expression Anthony recognized that it most probably had been Edith's idea. Something in that notion made him wary. Still…. "Clarkson thinks it is a good idea?" he asked.

"He does. And as I drive…." Edith sighed. "Please say yes. Even if you won't benefit from it, _I_ certainly could use some time away from here."

Remembering the scene she had endured earlier, Anthony decided to go along with her little game. He wasn't blind though; this was most definitely a trap of some sort. "Yes, alright. When should we go?"

"Whenever you are ready," she said, looking quite relieved. "I've already taken the liberty of phoning over there and alerting the staff, not there is much of one with you having been gone. But they are expecting us."

"Yes, alright then. Well, I suppose now would be as good a time as any?"

Edith's answering smile was bright and Anthony thought she looked radiant. Could he really do that for her, make her feel that happy? No, he answered in his head; no, she was just happy to get away from Downton for a while. He tried to quell the delight that was threatening to bubble up within his own chest, however. _Mustn't let this go to your head, old chap_.

The ride to Locksley was cheerful with Edith driving and telling him abut her adventures as she learned to drive and then later learned to manage a tractor. _She really is an amazing young woman_ , he mused as he listened to her stories and watched her drive. _She is also quite a speed demon. We are travelling a quite the clip,_ he noted as he glanced at the tress that seem to be rushing by. But sitting across from her, watching her animated expressions and noting the sun glistening in her hair, Anthony thought he might never feel quite this good ever again. Perhaps she was right; perhaps it would do him good to get away from Downton for awhile.

A worn looking old butler met them at the door of a rather charming house. "Hello Oates," Lady Edith greeted the old butler.

"Good afternoon, Lady Edith," the old man returned. Then turning to Anthony, his stiff butler façade cracked slightly. "It is very good to see you again, Sir Anthony."

"Thank you…. Oates," Anthony stuttered as he recalled the old man's name. Glancing around the entry, he continued. "I'm afraid I haven't any memory of this place but apparently Dr. Clarkson thought a visit might jog something. I hope you don't mind the intrusion. I'm sure you have other you were expecting to do this afternoon."

"Not at all, Sir. I'm afraid it has been a bit boring in your absence." Pausing only an instant, the old butler continued. "I took the liberty of setting tea in the library. That always seemed to be your favorite room, Sir."

"Thank you." Anthony replied. _Now if I just had a bloody clue as to the location of the library,_ he thought as he glanced around the hall.

"Yes, thank you Oates," Edith said quietly. "Sir Anthony and I can find our way. We'll ring if we need anything more."

Anthony marveled at her quite manner as she took complete control of the situation, both dismissing Oates and taking his arm to lead him to the room in a manner that suggested he was leading with her on his arm. It almost made him feel as if really was the master of the house…almost.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello all! You'll recognize part of their conversation and yes, Julian Fellowes wrote it. But don't worry, I fixed it ;) And now...

* * *

They entered a bright, comfortable looking room that indeed, played host to a great number of books. The collection was not as large as the one at Downton, but as Anthony left Edith's side to peruse the shelves, he realized that this was a library that was truly meant to be read. Downton's library had an air of a museum, like the books were on display rather than to be taken down and actually enjoyed. Noting some of the titles, he ascertained that he must have had a broad range of interests in his reading; or at least the gentleman who lived here before the war did. Anthony's reading at Downton had largely been focused on histories or biographies.

He turned from the shelves to see Edith standing in the middle of the room with an approving smile on her face. _She likes seeing me here…_

He let his eyes roam the rest of the room. There was a rather long and somewhat worn looking settee with a table next to it. The table help the tea tray, he realized. Set at an angle near the settee were a couple of comfortable looking chairs, one rather more worn looking than the other. They too had a table sitting between them. Glancing back at Edith, he smiled uncertainly. "Well, I… I suppose we shouldn't let the tea ..." She was looking at him so fondly that his words were left hanging in his mouth.

"No, we should have some before it cools," she said as she moved toward the table that held the tray.

"Edith…" he began, but once again lost his words as she turned to look at him. There was a sparkle there, in her eyes, all about her actually. And Anthony felt his chest was near to exploding with the emotions that ran through him in that instant. _Oh god, I am lost to her…._ he realized. _But I really must not let things go any further…_

She served him from the tray as he sat in the worn looking chair, finding it fit him perfectly. Then she settled on the settee with her own cup. Anthony saw his opportunity. "Lady Edith, I've been meaning to speak with you…"

"Oh, are we back to that again?" she protested. "I really thought we were past all that…"

" Yes, well…." he paused but then continued, "I'm actually glad I've got you alone for a moment. It gives me a chance to make some things clear. I know I've been somewhat confusing; I confuse myself even…."

"I don't understand…" Edith replied.

"You see, I couldn't bear it if I've caused you to misunderstand. I know you are hoping that we might take out together again as we did before the war. Because, of course, we can't."

Edith looked at him so worriedly, so very apprehensively.

"You see the thing is…I… I'm far too old for you…"

"I don't agree."

"Of course, I am," he said as his eyes rolled away at what should be so obvious. "And now," he continued as his eyes settled on her again, "I'm a cripple." He waved his left hand toward his crippled arm. "And I have no idea who I am anymore. I don't need a wife; I need a nurse." Oh how he wanted things to be different as he watched her watching him. "And I couldn't do that to someone as young and as lovely as you," he added, his voice growing tender at the end.

Edith shook her head. "I don't accept a single word of that speech," she answered.

"Lady Edith…" he said sternly.

"If you think I'm going to give up on someone who calls me lovely…"

"I'm afraid you must."

She stared at him resolutely, "well I disagree."

Watching her face, he was reminded of her youth. And while she looked so young and so guileless, she also was becoming very attractive in a very womanly manner. He also recognized her determination. And he conceded that he very probably was going to lose this war of wills. _Would that be so terrible?_

Once his tea was finished, Anthony carried his cup back to the tray, passing very close to Edith. As he turned to return to his chair, she reached up and took his right hand. He flinched, knowing it must feel cold to her, but he observed that she did not seem to notice. "Please, come sit here with me," she asked.

He knew he should simply return to his chair. But looking down into her shinning eyes, _so_ very bright with eagerness, he felt himself drawn to her and so settled next to her on the settee. _You really cannot refuse her, can you old boy?_

She smiled at him. "I have only been in this room a few times. Sometimes, as we were out for drives, we'd begin discussing a book and you would bring me here to show me or sometimes lend me one. Our discussions were always so pleasant but when we came here, well, I often left feeling disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Anthony wondered what he might have said or done that disappointed her.

"Yes, I felt there was something lacking in our discussion. And these last few days, I've felt it again."

Anthony couldn't think what he might be doing to disappoint her. Well, other than saying they couldn't take up again anyway. "Wh….what did you feel was lacking?" He had to ask, even though he thought there must be a trap in all this.

"Just this," she said as she leaned toward him, her lips touching his hesitantly.

Anthony relished her kiss and just managed to pull himself away before the kiss became too intense and felt an immediate disappointment within himself. She was tempting him unmercifully. And he liked it. Still, he could not allow things to continue like this. He moved to stand but Edith was too quick for his muddled mind and she grabbed the front of his jacket. "Oh no you don't, Anthony Strallan. You kissed me fully and with gusto that day at the folly. And I've craved a repeat, many repeats as a matter of fact, since then. You will stay right here and satisfy my appetite." She paused, looked straight into his eyes and smiled. "Now quit thinking of all the reasons you shouldn't and kiss me."

And by god, that's just what he did. He kissed her fully, letting his feelings take control and sending all thoughts of pushing her away into oblivion. After he'd kissed her thoroughly once, he kissed her again…. And again…. And again, until he wasn't sure who was kissing whom and caring not at all.

Quite a few heated moments later, they were half prone on the settee and alarms were sounding in Anthony's head. Sitting up, feeling quite flush and breathless, he merely watched her surprised expression. "My dear," he began rather breathlessly, "I fear I've gone too far. I apologize for my behavior just now but you see, I am not immune to your… charms."

A small smile quirked at her lips. "Suppose I didn't find anything in your behavior that requires an apology? I did ask… no, demand really, that you kiss me. And I enjoyed it, very much actually. Did you not enjoy it?"

"Oh, I did," he answered, feeling somewhere between mortified at his ungentlemanly behavior and gleeful about it also. She really was marvelous to kiss. "Much more than I should."

"Then I see no reason to stop," she teased.

"You know very well why we must stop," he growled, but a lopsided grin gave away his true feelings.

Something in her smile changed. There was joy in her face, along with the pleasure she had obviously taken from his attentions. "This is so much more like you, Anthony. You were more yourself in that one quick minute than you have been since you came back to Downton from the war. I knew you were still there and you've just shown me."

"I… I'm not sure I understand. You saw the Anthony that you used to know in my insistence that we stop? Did we…. Did I… I sincerely hope that I never took advantage of you before the war in all of our time together."

"You did not," Edith chuckled. "You were, are, always a perfect gentleman with me. But that little bit of grousing with a smile is so much like the pre-war man I knew."

"I hardly think that my behavior just now can be called being a gentleman," he huffed.

"But you were, don't you see? Another man might not have stopped. Please don't ruin this afternoon for me. Please don't let guilt create a shadow."

"Alright, I won't. But Edith, I still do not believe I am right for you. As much as I wish to be, I simply cannot see it."

"I'll tell you what I cannot see. I cannot see my life without you in it." She paused with a sigh. "But now is not the time for this discussion. We'll wait until you are healed and Dr. Clarkson has released you to come home. And then, I intend to prove to you that you are the right man for me, in every way."

Anthony wasn't entirely certain what she meant by "in every way" exactly, but a part of him was thrilled to contemplate it, especially when she demanded, "Now kiss me again for a few minutes before we return to Downton. I have a feeling I will need the memory of your kisses to survive the next few days."

Anthony started to object but then remembered the utter despair he'd seen in her earlier when that man, Gordon, had behaved so abominably. _No, I won't cast a cloud over your afternoon, my darling. You'll have your kisses. And I shall store away each one for those times later when I reside here in abject misery without you._

And so they kissed a few minutes more. Anthony didn't allow himself to get quite so carried away but if her expression when he finally insisted it was time to leave, he'd satisfied her appetite quite well.


	9. Chapter 9

Anthony's emotions vacillated between absolute delight and complete castigation as Edith drove them back to Downton. Their afternoon together, primarily their several kissing interludes, made him feel more alive than he could remember. But it was wrong, he knew it was, to let things continue. _You old fool…._

He chanced a glance in her direction and saw a faint smile on her lips. _I put that smile there…_ he gloated inwardly. _Could she really want me? There are so many reasons why she shouldn't…impossible really that she would. But…_

His mind and his emotions went back and forth for several minutes. But the memory of her lips, the warm welcome he found there, the sense of …. Home? He wanted what she was offering; he wanted so badly. But was it fair to her? He glanced at her again and sighed. No, it wasn't. But she did seem to want it too. He wished he could discuss it all with someone other than Edith. He felt so muddled…

Edith turned the car into the Downton estate, pulling it off to the side just past the gates where she turned off the engine and heaved a deep sigh. Anthony watched as she chewed her lip just a little and wondered why. "Edith?"

She turned to him apprehensively. "I… I think perhaps I was too forward this afternoon, that I pushed you beyond where you are ready to go."

Her eyes reflected her remorse and it nearly broke his heart to see such guilt there. Anthony couldn't let that continue. He leaned over to her and just before his lips touched hers, he whispered, "No one is pushing me now," And then he kissed her letting every bit of his desire for her, for what she offered, spill into his kiss.

"Golly," she said quietly when he pulled away. Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him and smiled.

Yes, he wanted all she was trying to offer him. He didn't deserve it but still…. He simply had to find someone with whom he could talk about this. But in the end, he thought he would claim the happiness that he knew could be found with Edith. And in that one thought, he found a peace he hadn't felt since he could remember.

My dearest, if I may call you that, you must know that I will never be whole again. You deserve so much more than I will ever be able to offer."

"You underestimate what you have to offer then, my darling. And I _will_ call you that. We've both been changed by the war. But one thing has not changed, how I feel when I am with you, what I feel for you." She glanced away. "No, that's not true. I feel so much more for you now. I was infatuated before but now… what I feel is more, deeper, lasting."

Anthony couldn't help himself after her declaration. He kissed her again, soundly. Then straightening up he looked around. "Perhaps we should go to the house?" he suggested with a grin.

Edith's smile was a broad one. "Must we? I rather like it here with just the two of us."

"As do I, my sweet one. But your family will be looking for you. And honestly, all this kissing and such has left me a bit tired."

She laughed at that. "Then I think we should work on strengthening your stamina, your… Kissing stamina."

"Oh my darling girl, I very much like the way you think."

And amidst her laughter, Edith started the motor and finished the drive to the house.

As the entered the house, Sybil came rushing toward them. "Edith, I'm so glad you are back. Mr. and Mrs. Chetwood are in the library with Papa and Granny. It seems that the Home Office was finally able to make contact with them but sent them to London. It took some time for them to …" she glanced at Anthony, "find their way here."

"Oh," Edith gasped. "We should go in then…"

Anthony wondered why the ladies were so concerned and kept glancing at him. But he really was growing tired after the afternoon activities and simply smiled. "I'll leave you ladies to your guests then and retreat to my room."

"Oh no, but you can't," Sybil exclaimed.

"What Sybil means is that these aren't our guests, they are yours," Edith quickly explained.

What?" Anthony asked, wondering why he would have visitors.

"Mrs. Chetwood is your sister. I don't know why it took so long for them to be found, but they are here now and I'm sure your sister would like to see you."

"Sister? Yes, I remember something about having a sister. She was mentioned by the nurses and doctors in London. But after I was sent to Leeds and then here, no one said anything about her."

"Shall we go in the library then?" Edith asked. "If you aren't ready…."

Anthony took a deep breath. "I… I can't say, really. But I suppose I should go and meet her." Inside his glee over his growing relationship with the pretty young blonde that was smiling at him was dissolving into panic over meeting a sister he had no memory of.

Edith reached over and touched his hand. "It will be alright, Anthony. She is your sister, not the enemy."

Anthony sighed in relief and then shot her his own smile. "Yes, of course. You….you'll go with me? Please?"

Edith smiled brightly. "Of course." And so still holding his hand, she turned and led the way to the library. Stopping at the door, she turned to him again. "I'm going to let go your hand now. Papa and Granny wouldn't understand. But I just want you to know, I am here for you. However, you feel with your sister, please know that I am here."

Anthony, as nervous as he was, was reassured by her statement. "Yes, I know that now. And it … well, I feel as if I can face it all, with you here. There's so much more I want to say but now isn't the time."

"No, not now. But later, we will talk. First you have to go in and meet your sister. And give her a chance, Anthony. She can possibly help you, you know."

Anthony took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright then." Edith opened the door and Anthony followed her into the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Let me take a moment to wish everyone a happy 4th of July! Well, my American readers anyway. For my British readers, my condolences on your loss, haha.  
Sorry, I just couldn't resist ;)  
Anyway, I'm worried about the reception this chapter will receive but here we go...

* * *

Anthony took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright then." Edith opened the door and Anthony followed her into the room.

"Hello Granny, Papa, and you must be Mr. and Mrs. Chetwood," Edith said warmly. "I'm so pleased to meet you."

But Mrs. Chetwood's eyes were not on Edith, they were on Anthony. He heard the voices of the others as they spoke but he was focused on two people, Edith and the woman who was his sister, Agatha. Gently, Edith led him to a chair near her and they all sat. Anthony couldn't say what he had expected, but this woman wasn't it. She was short and a bit round with a jovial face, a nose much like a smaller version of his own, and a small pert mouth. And as light as he was, her coloring was the exact opposite. Her dark hair was beginning to grey but her dark eyes were very bright. And her complexion was more Mediterranean than the pale skin he wore. Could they really be siblings?

Her husband, he noticed, was also a bit round but of average height. Mr. Chetwood, Alistair he heard someone call the man, wore a moustache over full lips and under a small nose. His eyes were dark also. His hair, what little remained, was grey. And he remained quiet.

He looked from his sister and her husband to Edith, feeling somewhat panicked. Agatha was speaking but he couldn't really focus on what she was saying, which only upset him seemed to sense his situation and surreptitiously placed her hand on the arm of his chair so that her finders touched his sleeve. There wasn't much contact, but it was enough to settle him again and he turned back to his sister. She was speaking again but of course, he hadn't really followed what had been said. It felt as if everything was closing in around him and his head began to ache. To add to his state, the faces in front of him seemed to be swimming.

"Anthony, have you heard a word I've said?" She finally asked.

"I…I'm sorry, but no. I… this has been…" he paused and thought of the endless months in various hospitals when he'd been all alone. It was only when he came to Downton that he felt anyone cared about him. And before he realized what he was going to say, anger boiled within him and he said it. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

He could feel the ripples of shock that rolled through the room. And he was appalled at his behavior. But all those months-where had his sister been all that time?

"Yes, I know it seems like it took me far too long to get to you," she replied with a tinge of anger of her own. "Alistair and I were in Scotland. It took a while for the letter from your doctor to find me. And then we went to London to the hospital there but you had been sent on by then. So we had to try to hunt you down. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear that you were at Downton."

"Yes, I… I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"You've been on your own through it all and I'm sorry," Agatha interrupted. "But don't worry now. Alistair and I plan to take you to Locksley for a few days and then we'll take you back to Cambridge with us."

"Cambridge?" He exclaimed. "I can't go to Cambridge."

"But Anthony, Alistair really must return to his duties there. The war has created havoc for the University and the finances are in a terrible state. The Vice Chancellor requires him to return within the fortnight."

Anthony blinked. "Yes, of course you must go back. But I must remain here, don't you see. Dr. Clarkson has not released me from his care and I haven't finished the course of treatment that was prescribed for me."

"Surely you could continue with a doctor in Cambridge?"

Anthony's head was spinning and he knew that he might lose control at any moment. Thankfully, Edith came to his rescue. "Mrs. Chetwood, as I understand things, the Army doctors and nurses are trained to take care of cases like Anthony's but a doctor who hasn't treated returning soldiers isn't."

"Yes, well… it can't be that complicated…You certainly look as if you are on the mend," Agatha insisted as she looked at Anthony.

"On the mend?" Anthony blurted. "I haven't got the use of my right arm, I can't remember a damned thing from before waking up in that torture house the Germans had me in, and …and apparently I'm suffering from shell shock. I hardly call that mended. Now if you will all please excuse me, I'm tired and I'm going to my room." He stood rather shakily and started for the door.

"But Anthony…" Agatha started to call out.

"Really Mrs. Chetwood, it would be best if you let him rest now. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?" Edith asked as Anthony left the room.

"Well I….I suppose we could….."

"Yes, I think that is best. Let him rest and I'm sure he'll feel better tomorrow," Edith said as she stood. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go find one of the nurses to check on him and be sure he is alright. And she hurried out the door.

Anthony had taken the steps by twos as he hurried away. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning as he rushed through the hall to his room but before he could get there, he felt the shaking begin. Somehow, he managed to stumble into his room and collapse on the floor, shaking violently.

Edith wasn't far behind and when she saw the shaking begin, she hurried to catch up. Finding him on the floor, she fell beside him and wrapped her arms around him. "You're alright Anthony. I am here and you are alright." He began to shake harder.

Sybil happened to be on that hall and heard the commotion. Peeking into the room, she breathed, "Oh no…."

"Is Dr. Clarkson around?" Edith asked when she heard her sister.

"He was a few minutes ago. I'll see if I can find him." And she scurried off in search of the doctor.

Edith turned her attention back to Anthony. "Anthony darling, try to relax. Everything will be alright."

Anthony heard her and tried to respond but he couldn't, he was shaking so hard. He folded his left hand under his right arm thinking that might help him get some control. It didn't. Looking up into her concerned eyes, he cried out. "Please don't let them take me away."

"No, my darling. No, I won't let it happen," Edith replied as she tightened her grip on him.

Anthony could feel her arms around him and while it did give him some comfort, he couldn't make the shaking stop. He did somehow manage not to let out the sobs that were threatening. He knew he couldn't bear for her to see him sobbing. It just wouldn't do. He couldn't face her again if she saw him crying like a baby.

Edith continued consoling him, repeating her mantra that he would be alright and that she was there for him. She kissed him on his cheek and then held him close again. But the shaking continued.

"What's this?" Dr. Clarkson asked from the doorway. But before Edith could answer, he was already beside the patient. "Ah, another episode." Anthony heard him but couldn't respond.

Looking across at Edith, Clarkson nodded. "Let's see if we can get him to his bed. He'll be more comfortable there." The two of them helped Anthony stand and steered him to the bed. Edith pulled off his shoes while Clarkson worked his jacket off. "There now," the doctor said. "Just lie back, Sir Anthony." Reaching toward his bag, he slipped his hand in and pulled out a bottle. Glancing around the room, he spied a glass on a table near the window. As if reading his thoughts, Edith retrieved the glass and handed it to him. Gr. Clarkson poured a bit of the liquid into the glass and held it toward Anthony. "Try to drink this," he instructed. Anthony tried to take the glass but his hand was still shaking too much. Clarkson held it steady at his mouth as Anthony drank.

Once the liquid was finished, Clarkson eased Anthony down and then set the glass on a nearby table. "That should help him," Clarkson said quietly as he and Edith watched Anthony's eyes close. He was still shaking but it seemed to be slowly abating. "What happened?" Clarkson asked as he turned his attention to Edith. She explained everything that had transpired with Mrs. Chetwood, ending with her desire to take him out of Downton and then to Cambridge. "And when I found him here, he begged me not to let them take him," she concluded.

Storm clouds had gathered in Clarkson's face. "I would have liked to have spoken to her before she saw Sir Anthony. Of course he isn't ready to leave here and certainly not ready to move to Cambridge."

"I tried to tell him that we wouldn't let it happen but he was already so upset…." Edith offered.

Clarkson looked at her uncertainly. "Lady Edith, I don't mean to intrude but I have to know…."

"What Doctor?"

"Well, I believe you are a great help to Sir Anthony but worry because he seems to be somewhat dependent on you, too dependent really, so I need to ask - what are your intention where he is concerned?"

"I….I… well, isn't it really more a question of what his intentions are about me? I thought he would propose before the war and I would have accepted. Nothing has changed for me. But I do understand that so much has changed for him. I've told him that I am here for him and when he is ready, if he is ready, I want to us to be together. We haven't actually discussed marriage but if he asks, my answer will still be yes."

Dr. Clarkson sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear it. But you must understand, he will never be the same gentleman that you knew before the war. What I mean is, memory or no memory, between his wounds and everything else that happened to him, well…. it has affected him. He'll get better but he'll never be the same. But to do that, he'll need to be less dependent. I know you want to help him, but sometimes not helping him is the best way."

"I know. And it is difficult but I try not to interfere. I try to let him handle things as he can. And I know he won't be the same ever but underneath it all, Anthony is still there and I …. Well, I love him."

Clarkson smiled. "Take it slowly, Lady Edith. He isn't ready for responsibility yet, not for himself and certainly not for a wife."

"Of course. As I said, when he is ready…."

"Then as long as you understand what you are taking on, I can only be happy for Sir Anthony. I'm sure your caring presence will aid him immensely."


	11. Chapter 11

Hello all! Thank you so much for all the reviews and comments for the last chapter and all along. I'm so glad you are enjoying my toying with our couple. As you will recall, Anthony's sister had upset him quite a bit with her declaration that she and her husband would take Anthony away from Downton. He was so upset that he had another of his "fits" and needed Dr. Clarkson's assistance. And there was that straight forward conversation between Clarkson and Edith about what the future might hold for Anthony and for Edith. And now... 

* * *

While Anthony's eyes had closed, his shaking abated, and his mind beginning to numb, he had not fallen asleep and he heard every word that was spoken. He and Dr. Clarkson had spoken before about how the war had injured him in ways that were not visible, so his comments were not a surprise. At least, not the ones about what his recovery might look like. But the Doctor's comment about Edith's influence did surprise him. And even more, her absolute certainty that she would marry him, if he asked. _How could she be so sure? Why would she want to marry him, unless it was some misplaced pity? But nothing about her behavior seems to indicate pity….. care, yes…._ But _not pity. It just seems so impossible…. I really must do better. These horrible episodes must stop and…. if only my memory would come back? But it might never…. What then? Should I wait until then or….or should I concentrate on healing my body and finding a way to manage these episodes? Yes, yes…. That's what I will do. Heal what can be healed and either the memory will return or it won't. Either way, I WILL get better, be as strong as I can. I will earn the right to ask for her hand. Yes…. That's it…Yes, I will, I must. I cannot imagine a future without her._ Those thoughts lingered with him until fell into a deep sleep.

Anthony slept most of the rest of the day. And while he slept, Edith was pressed by her father and Granny to explain the bizarre events that afternoon between Anthony and his sister. She tried to explain how Mrs. Chetwood's remarks about taking him away from all that he knew had upset him and they seemed to grasp just how much panic it had caused, even though she did not go into detail about his episode upon returning to his room.

"Yes, but he seems so dependent upon you, my dear," Granny commented.

"Dependent? No, he manages on his own quite well, all things considered. But I do believe that he trusts me more than others, somehow. There are some aspects of his injuries that he will not discuss with me at all…" _And there are moments between us that I will not discuss with you, nor will I tell you the full effect of his episodes…._

"Of course not. That's isn't the sort of thing one discusses with a young lady," Granny said.

"Of course. And he does discuss those with Dr. Clarkson. But when it comes to other things, he is quite like he was before the war. I think he's read half the library while staying here and when we were at Locksley…."

"You went to Locksley with him? Alone?" Robert asked, aghast.

"I drove him over. Dr. Clarkson thought it might stir some bits of memory, but I don't think it worked."

"But no one else was with you?" Her Papa had suddenly grown very alert and intense.

"No. Everyone was busy. We were alright. And his staff was in the house. Poor Oates was so happy and relieved to see him but of course, Anthony didn't recognize him at all. It was easy to see how disappointed Oates was."

"Well, I should hope so," Granny interjected. "One would hope the staff is always happy to see the master of the house."

"Well, anyway…. The visit didn't seem to stir any memories for him. He did look more comfortable in his library though. So perhaps that was something." Edith failed to notice the odd looks that both her father and her Granny were giving her. Finally, her father spoke again. "Yes, well…. I do hope you aren't thinking things will pick up just where they left off between the two of you. He is a changed man."

"Yes, and wounded…. A cripple really," Granny said.

Edith looked at her elders with chagrin. "I don't expect things to be the same and he _is_ injured but not a cripple, and I do hope that when he is ready, we might renew our friendship in earnest."

"I should say you've already achieved that," Granny mumbled.

"Yes, in a way. But he is still a patient; something we both feel quite acutely, I think." Before anymore could be said, Carson rang the gong and Edith used it as an excuse to hurry from the room. She wanted no more prying by her father and her granny. They simply did not understand at all.

Later that night, when the house was all settled, Edith left the confines of her room and crossed over to the wing where Anthony's room was. Knocking softly on his door, she opened it and peered around the edge. He was propped in his bed, reading. She took advantage of the moment to simple gaze at him. He really was handsome, she thought, in spite of the added lines and haunted look the war had etched in his face. Time would heal some of that too, she thought. In fact, she thought those things might already be softening in his features.

Anthony looked up, startled. "Edith?"

"Yes, I just…. Well, I was in my room and after everything today, I just needed to see you, be sure you are alright," she said as she ventured into his room. "And if I'm entirely honest, I was thinking about our time together at Locksley."

His eyes widened as he realized that she was here, in his room, him in his night clothes and her in … hers. And what a feast for his eyes she was too, clad in her silky night frocks, exposing so little and hinting at so much. So much so, that his head began to feel a bit light. "You… you shouldn't be here this time of night and in….. that," he said as he waved at her apparel.

Emboldened by his obvious reaction to her attire, even though she hadn't given it any thought, she stepped closer to his bed. "You don't like my clothes?"

"On the contrary, my dear, I like them entirely too much, much more than I ought. I may be injured, but I am still a man and in that…garb, you remind me of that fact quite forcefully."

Unused to such praise from men, Edith couldn't help it, she giggled. "Really?" She'd eased closer and was now standing at the edge of his bed. Watching as he took in her full effect stirred things deep within her, things no one had ever told her about before. But she knew what was behind those stirrings; she wanted him as much as his expression suggested he wanted her.

Sitting gingerly on the foot of the bed, she smiled at him. "I did need to see you. And if you want me to leave I will. But I'd like to stay, if you'll have me."

"Oh god," he moaned. "Please don't do this…"

"What?" she asked.

"If I'll have you?" His voice was a higher pitch and there was real anguish in his eyes.

"Oh, I didn't mean…. I meant…. Well, just if you'd let me stay awhile…. Not….." They both spoke at once. "I know you didn't mean to suggest…. But still…."

Anthony paused and shot her his shy, awkward grin, which made her smile in return. "I love you Anthony. You do know that, don't you? I know it isn't considered ladylike to confess such things, but I want you to know that."

"I do not think it is unladylike and oh my sweet, I'll treasure your words always. And you mean so very much to me as well. And I promise you that I am doing my best to heal the broken places. And in time, I want to…. It is my fondest wish to be able to ask for your hand. But not just yet. You do understand, don't you?"

"I do. And I can wait, although it is becoming increasing difficult. I just want for us to be together, in every way."

Anthony groaned again. "Edith!" But he was grinning and there was a twinkle in his eyes. "You keep this up and I will die from a heart attack before I can ever ask the question."

"Then ask me now. It'll be our little secret. No one else has to know a thing. But we'll know."

"I… no, not like this. But soon, I think I shall."

Edith smiled broadly. "Then I shall have to be content with the promise of a promise. And I think I can sleep now, so I'll go back to my room and dream of our life together."

"Oh my dearest darling, will you really?"

"Yes, I will as I do every night. Good night, my love." She bent over to kiss him, giving him a peek at what treasures she was saving for him and he closed his eyes, letting the joy wash through him. "Yes, my darling, good night." He couldn't help the smile that affixed itself to his face or the glistening in his eyes as he watched her cross the room and disappear through the door. _You really must get better, old chap. She is waiting for you and a lady should never be made to wait._


	12. Chapter 12

So sorry for the wait. Hopefully this longer chapter will make up for it. As always, your comments have been much appreciated!

* * *

Mrs. Chetwood did return the next day. But this time, she was not allowed to speak with Anthony immediately but asked to wait in the little library until Dr. Clarkson could come speak with her. Sybil informed Edith of the situation and Edith went straight to Anthony. "Shall we take a stroll, perhaps visit the folly again?"

Anthony was in the drawing room with a book. His face broke into one of his crooked smiles as he looked up from his reading to look at Edith. "The folly?"

"Yes, it is a beautiful morning and I refuse to spend the entirety of it indoors."

"And you've chosen the folly as your destination because..?"

Edith looked at him with one of her shy, demure smiles. "You know very well why I have chosen the folly as our destination, Anthony Strallan. And don't think for one minute that I believe you aren't equally interested in returning to that building."

"Very well, Lady Edith Crawley. I am at your service," Anthony replied with an equally shy grin.

It seemed to Anthony, as they made their way to the little castle, that the folly was quickly becoming a favorite spot for them on the estate. Briefly, he wondered where on the Locksley estate he might have one built. Perhaps as a wedding gift to his wife?

For all of Edith's protestations about not being indoors, they spent the entirety of their time in the folly seated on the stone bench, kissing and snuggling. Of course, Anthony had known that it was her intention and being a gentleman, he endeavored to please her, to a point. When she took his left hand and held it against her breast, he pulled away. "Edith! We must stop."

Gazing up at him with her doe colored eyes that seemed to sparkle at him, she shot him her most innocent look. "But why?" Her tone was as innocent as her expression but Anthony knew that her intentions were not.

"You know very well why, my dearest."

She sighed and then smiled at him. "Can't blame a girl for trying?"

"You _are_ a little temptress, aren't you? But please, no more… trying. I care for you far too much to put you in a position where you are well and truly compromised. And I fear that I am not strong enough to resist your more…. flirtatious efforts. Please, my darling?"

Edith let out an exaggerated huff. "If you insist. But I think we could have so much fun."

 _Fun? She thinks that ….. that I would be fun….that it would be fun with me? She deserves someone younger, not a dried up old prune like me. But… well, it was a bit of fun while I held her and… and my hand on her… well, she did seem to enjoy that. But surely it was just the excitement…. Any man would have been fine…. But she chose you. She continues to choose only you. She must see something that I just can't. Still…"_ He looked into her face, took in her adoring eyes, and felt his resistance melting.

"My dearest one," Anthony began still unsure of the advisability but certain it was what they both wanted, "when I am released from here, when I am strong enough, I do hope… no," he paused as he slid from his seat to his knee on the stone floor. "Darling Edith, would you give me the very high honor of agreeing to become my wife… in time?"

To his utter delight, she leaned down and kissed him most soundly. "Yes, my darling man. A thousand times yes. When you are released from here, we will begin planning the wedding. We'll give it time while you adapt to life at Locksley again, but not too long of a time. Because I really do want to be a part of that life with you."

 _She will have me,_ he thought ecstatically. Her exuberant response overwhelmed Anthony and the tears that he had refused to let fall the day before, forced themselves out and ran down his cheeks. She would have him! Relief and with joy gripped him and he began to shake with the enormity of it.

"Oh no," she exclaimed as she saw the shaking.

"No, I'm alright," he replied quickly. "I…. I'm just so…" he paused to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. "Oh my dearest darling, you have made me so happy!"

Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him and whispered, "so am I, so very, very happy."

"But it must be as you said last night, our little secret," he said after a moment. "We won't make it official until I am back at Locksley."

"Agreed," Edith replied. "And I really love the notion that we will have our little secret, the knowledge of our love, just between us for awhile longer. I'm not ready to share any of our happiness with anyone else just yet. I want to keep it and you all to myself."

Anthony couldn't help himself, he began to chuckle, almost giggle with the pleasure of it all.

After a few minutes basking in their new little secret, Edith told Anthony about his sister returning. "Dr. Clarkson ordered that she not be allowed to see you until he speaks with her, so she was taken to the small library until he could get here. But I think by now, he has had ample time to talk to her. Perhaps we should go back to the house? Do you think you are ready to try again with her?"

"As long as she understands that I am not leaving here, not yet. And I am certainly not going to Cambridge!"

"Of course, you won't. Do you really believe I would let you out of my sight for long, especially after today?"

"I certainly hope not, my darling. I certainly hope not," he said as he stood and took her hand. And this time, it was Anthony who led the way back to the house and to the small library. He stopped at the door and turned to Edith. "I think I should try this on my own, my sweet. If I am to get stronger, I need to do things like this and not depend on you for help."

"Oh, well…. aright then, if you are sure." But she didn't seem happy with his decision.

"I am. I…. I need to prove to myself…"

Edith smiled at him weakly and squeezed his hand. "If you need to do this, then you should. But please understand darling man, you do not need to prove anything to me."

An anxious smile quirked at his lips. "Perhaps not. But I really think I need to do this."

"I'll be in the salon, if you should need me. And if you don't, well… I'll be waiting for you there anyway." She gave his hand another squeeze and then turned to make her way through to the saloon. Anthony turned his attention to the library door and pushed it open.

Inside he found Dr. Clarkson seated in a chair next to another that held his sister. Across the room, her husband was standing, perusing the shelves of books. Clarkson looked up and nodded at Anthony. "There you are, Major Strallan." Anthony caught that Clarkson had used his military rank instead of his civilian one and surmised that it was part of the doctor's campaign with Agatha. "Yes Dr. Clarkson, I was told that my sister and her husband had returned. I'm feeling stronger today and thought this might be a good time to talk."

Turning to his sister, Anthony greeted her. "Hello Agatha. I'm very sorry for my behavior yesterday. It was just all a bit of a shock, you see." And then looking across at Alistair, he nodded. "I owe you an apology as well, I'm afraid. My behavior was rather boorish.

"Not at all, old chap. I told Agatha we should wait and speak with the doctor before barging in on you like that. It was nice to be proven correct about something, for a change." Anthony smiled at his brother-in-law's words and even more at the smirk that played on the man's face. He decided that once he got to know Alastair better, he might like him quite a bit.

Clarkson stood and turned to bid the Chetwoods a good day. Then turning to Anthony, he looked rather focused. "If you are certain you will be alright?"

"Yes Doctor, as I said, I'm feeling much better today. I'll be fine."

"Then I'll tend to my other patients," he said as he once again bid good bye to the Chetwoods and left the room.

Anthony took the chair that Clarkson had vacated. "I really am sorry about yesterday. But you see, I'm really not ready to leave the care of Dr. Clarkson and the nurses just yet. And even when I am ready to go home, it will be to Locksley, not Cambridge."

Agatha nodded somberly. "Dr. Clarkson explained about your injuries, the physical ones and the ones to your spirit. I understand better now, my dear little brother. I just want you to get better. In my haste to take care of you, I neglected to consider that I might not be the best solution for your care and recovery. But the doctor assures me that you will recover from it all."

"Yes, I hope so. With the exception of my arm, of course. The damage to my shoulder has rendered it useless, not fit for man nor beast, you see. And no one can say that my memory will ever return, or if it does, just how much of it will come back. And as to the damage done to my spirit," he shrugged, "or my soul, if you will…. Right now, I can't see how I will ever recover that completely. But I am trying. It's just that my confidence has gone and I'm so very unsure of everything." _Except for a very pretty young lady who is waiting for me in the salon…_

"Dr. Clarkson said you were tortured, Anthony…" Agatha's question had Alastair moving closer and sitting in a nearby chair.

Taking a deep breath, Anthony knew he had to answer her query. "Yes, well… I was in the Intelligence Corps and the Germans thought I might have information they could use. But I had no memory, so I couldn't tell them anything. I would like to think I wouldn't have told them anything anyway, but after months of their brutality, I can't honestly say that I wouldn't have." It hurt, physically hurt to have to think on those months but he knew his sister needed to understand what he had been through. And he thought that perhaps, if he were to explain, to talk about it a bit more, perhaps it would be easier to live with. "At first, it wasn't terribly bad but as the weeks passed, they became more brutal. And then for the last month or so, they withheld food and water too. It is hard to believe that humans can be that cruel to one another."

"Oh my poor dear," she exclaimed. Alastair sat absolutely still but wore a thunderous look on his face. "My dear chap, to have that happen to you—you of all men, always so kind and gentle. Unthinkable!"

"Thank you, both of you. But it is done now and I really only want to focus on getting stronger, on healing as much as it is possible. And then I want to go home to Locksley."

"Dr. Clarkson said you visited there yesterday?" Agatha seemed curious. "Did… I mean, were there any memories?"

"Memories? No. But I did feel… I can't explain exactly, but I did feel comfortable there. It didn't feel like a strange place to me after the first few minutes. I think that in time, I will feel it is my home again."

"Well, that is something, I suppose." Agatha's expression had softened. "I do want to help, as much as I can. Alastair and I both do. But we don't know how to help you, Anthony."

"Then, please don't push me. I know you wanted me to go to Cambridge so you could look after me. I understand that. But … but I need to do this in my own way." Anthony paused as an idea came to him. "Perhaps if you went with me to Locksley and spend some time there, a few hours maybe. You could talk about what it was like for us there as children, explain what our lives were like, perhaps that might help jog some memories. At the very least, it might help me to feel more at home there. I know you said Alastair has to return to Cambridge…."

"We can spare a few days," Alastair chimed in. "I think that's a splendid idea, Anthony. Agatha and I are staying in the village but would you mind if we shifted over to Locksley? It would give Agatha some time to dig out the old family books. They might serve as aides in exploring your past."

"No, I don't mind at all. I saw the butler yesterday… Oates? And I had the impression there _was_ other staff about. We could call over there now and alert them to your arrival."

"Yes, that would be lovely," Agatha replied enthusiastically.

Feeling relieved and quite happy, Anthony led them into the salon, where he saw Edith sitting near the great stone fireplace. Approaching her, he called out, "Lady Edith?"

Looking up with a twinkle in her eye, Edith smiled at him. "Yes, Major Strallan?"

"I was wondering… do you think it might be alright if we used your telephone to call over to Locksley. My sister and her husband are going to stay there for the rest of their visit and I thought we should alert the staff."

"Oh how marvelous," she said. "Of course you may use the telephone. Please, go ahead now. No one is using it."

And so Anthony, suddenly full of confidence, phoned Locksley and informed his staff, _his staff_ he marveled, that Mr. and Mrs. Chetwood would spend the next few days there.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you all for the wonderfully supportive reviews. All are much appreciated! I'm hoping to have some writing time over the next few days and with luck will be able to post again sooner rather than later. In the meantime...  
Our Edith has become quite mischievous it would seem. Will she get Anthony in trouble?

* * *

That night, Edith once again stole through the corridors to Anthony's room. This time however, she had dressed in her least attractive night wear, mindful of his reaction the night before and his desire to not step over certain boundaries. As much as she enjoyed teasing him in various ways, she did not want to push him beyond where he was ready to go, and Dr. Clarkson had said to go slowly.

Again she knocked softly at his door and once again she peeked around to see him engrossed in a book. Only this time, he was sitting in a chair by the window, a lamp lit on the table beside him. He looked up and smiled that sheepish grin of his. "Lady Edith, what a pleasure," he said lightly. But if his expression was any indication, he had been expecting her.

Closing the door behind her as she stepped into his room, Edith grinned back. "You don't seem at all surprised to see me."

"My dear, you are full of surprises and I've merely armed myself to be ready for them. But visiting me in my bed chamber at night really must stop. What if you were discovered?"

"The wedding would be moved forward."

"Or your father would be so angry, it might never be allowed to happen," Anthony said darkly.

"Papa would be angered. But no matter what he says or does, I will marry you, my darling man. Now kiss me before I go mad with the want of it."

Anthony stood and crossed to her. "Can't have that, now can we?" he teased. His kiss was firm and sure and from his perspective, her lips were even more delicious than usual. "This really could become a habit," he murmured as he released her.

"A habit? Kissing?"

"Yes, my sweet one, a habit. I should think at least once a day."

"Only once a day?"

"Perhaps once every four hours, like some of my medicines."

"Only every four hours?" Edith was teasing in earnest.

"Very well then, would once an hour be sufficient?" Anthony asked with twinkling eyes.

Running her hand up his chest and neck into his hair, she leaned up. "More than that, much more than that" she whispered as she kissed him.

"My dear, you are temptation personified. We really must take a break," Anthony said after her rather lengthy and intense perusal of his lips.

"If we must," Edith sighed. She nudged past him, making certain that she brushed against him, and sat on his bed.

Anthony groaned. "Oh my darling girl, you really are testing me, aren't you?"

"How can you say that? I wore my ugliest nighties for you."

Settling next to her on the bed, Anthony chuckled. "You could wear a burlap sack and I would still find you most alluring."

"Oh, that deserves another kiss," she said as she moved to act on it. But Anthony pulled back slightly. "I think not. Given our current location, that might lead to something unintended."

"Do you spoil every party?"

"No, at least I don't think so, and I shall be most happy to party with you once we are married. But for now, let's content ourselves with merely sitting together and holding hands perhaps?"

Another sigh from his darling told Anthony that she was resigned to the less ambitious suggestion.

"I had another reason to come to you tonight," she finally said.

"Oh? And here I was thinking you'd lain awake thinking of ways to molest me."

"Oh, that too. But Patrick or Peter or whatever his name is…" Anthony felt her shudder beside him. "What my sweet?"

"He stopped me as I was going up to change for dinner. He really is insisting that he is Patrick Crawley and I want to believe him, but he just doesn't act like Patrick. Our Patrick would have never treated me the way he did."

"What? He treated you badly? Anthony could feel anger rising from his gut.

"Well, certainly not in a manner I would expect from Patrick. He… he told me that he knew all along that I was in love with him, that he hadn't wanted to marry Mary. But then he grabbed my arm and held it tightly and he said he…. He said he'd seen me with you and that he couldn't believe I would choose you over him. Then he kissed me and… well, it was just awful. I tried to push him away and he just pressed me more. When he finally stopped, he glared at me and said that I am as cold as a fish in the ocean and you could have me."

"What! The scoundrel!" Anthony sprung up from his seat on the bed. "I shall go and have a word with this young popinjay. He has no right to speak to you like that."

"No Anthony, please…. I didn't tell you this to make you angry. I just…. I needed to tell someone and there is no one I trust more than you. Whoever that man is, he isn't Patrick, at least not the Patrick that I cared about."

Looking down at Edith, Anthony let loose a long breath. "Yes, well… I can see you are disappointed. You thought you might be getting your cousin back and instead this… this imposter has insulted you." He settled back beside her and took her hand. "I'm very sorry, Edith."

"But you did nothing wrong."

No, I don't think I have. But still, it is because of me that this Peter person thought he could speak to you in such a manner. It's outrageous, really."

"Oh, I knew you would understand. I _am_ disappointed by it all. I did hope that he might prove to be Patrick. But now…"

"Now you are caught because as much as you hope he isn't your cousin Patrick, it means that your beloved Patrick is at the bottom of the ocean."

"Yes, that's it exactly." She paused and tilted her head in thought. "Except Patrick isn't, never was, my beloved. I cared for him, deeply, but not half of how much I care for you."

"I really don't deserve you. But I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say things like that," Anthony answered.

As much as he wanted to kiss her in that moment, he refrained. _Oh my sweet one, I daren't say how very much I want to be with you, just like this… always._ And so he simply contented himself with gazing at her adoringly.

They sat a few minutes more, Anthony finally relenting and kissing Edith just once before she left to return to her room.

Late the next morning, Anthony found Edith sitting on a bench under one of the large trees that dotted the estate. "Good morning," he said, glancing around before he dared continue, "my dearest darling."

Edith looked up him and smiled, but it was a sad smile, he noted. Sitting next to her, he studied her expression. "What's the matter?"

"Patrick or Peter or whoever he was is gone," she said unhappily. "He didn't even say good-bye, just… disappeared."

"Oh my," Anthony said consolingly. Inwardly he was relieved. "Not a word to anybody?"

"He left a note…." Edith sighed.

"Did it explain why he left so abruptly?"

"No, well… he said it was too difficult. And he signed it P. Gordon. P for Patrick or P for Peter? That's what I want to know."

Anthony mulled that one a minute before replying. "Well, I should think that since he used Gordon and not Crawley, that it was P for Peter."

"Yes, you're probably right, which means Patrick really did drown all those years ago. And I was a fool for ever believing this man."

"Oh my dear, you were not a fool. You simply wanted to believe that a loved one, a member of your family, had somehow survived. There is nothing foolish in that, in wanting to believe in the best of people and not always seeing the worst."

"Really? Because I certainly feel foolish right now."

"Well, you shouldn't and you can't."

"I can't?" She looked at him curiously.

"No my dear, because you see, I'm already foolish enough for the both of us."

"I don't see how."

"Well if, as you have said, I was to propose to you the day that the war broke out, I'd say I was patently foolish for not doing so. And now, as young and lovely as you are and as old and broken as I am, I'm a bit foolish in believing that I could ever make you happy for the long term. So I've quite got the foolish side of things in hand, you see."

Edith chuckled. "Oh Anthony, you do make me happy, so very, very happy. I wish you could see that. First you say I'm lovely and then you make me laugh and I'm feeling better already about my own foolishness." She looked at him, studied his face for a moment. "You know, I never knew Humpty Dumpty was so handsome. If I had, perhaps I would have payed closer attention to the tale as a child. But then, you aren't Humpty, are you? Because he, poor thing, couldn't be put back together again. And you, my darling man, are coming together quite nicely, I believe. "

"No, I'm not," Anthony answered uncertainly. "My arm will always be broken and the rest of me, well… you must realize that I'll never be the same, never quite whole again."

"Dr. Clarkson has told me the same thing. Well, not that exactly. He said you would never be quite the same man as you were before the war, that it has changed you. And I understand that. I also understand that under all the hurt and uncertainty, that kind, gentle man is still there. And more and more I see him when we are together. Beyond that, you Anthony, make me better. When I am with you, I am happier, kinder, and a much better person. And I know that will always be the way it is for me."

"I can't imagine you as anything but kind and I want always for you to be happy," he replied.

"Then you really must stop doubting your ability to make me happy."

"I'll try," he answered with a crooked smile and worry nibbling in his gut.


	14. Chapter 14

Here we are again. Hopefully the length of this one makes up for the time you've waited for more.

* * *

The following morning, Anthony sought out Matthew Crawley. "I know you are still on the mend," Anthony said. "But I hope that perhaps you might help me with something."

"Help you? How? I… well, I don't seem much use to anyone…"

Anthony nodded, recognizing the young man's despair. He had suffered quite a bit of that himself. "Yes, I know how that is," he replied. "But it isn't your military skill I need. Hopefully you can help me with a legal issue?"

"Legal?" Anthony could see interest spark in young Crawley's eyes. "What sort of legal issue?"

"I want to make a will. Trouble is, since I can't remember anything of my life before, I have no idea of what my holdings are and if there is even a will in existence. I need your help, as someone who understands these things, to help me sort it all. Do you think you might be able to help me?"

Matthew stared at him for a moment. "Thank you," he finally said softly.

"For what? I am coming to you for help, you understand."

"Yes, I do. But you see, I'm glad of the chance to do something, anything, beyond sitting in this blasted chair feeling sorry for myself. I know I shouldn't but it is so very difficult not to."

"Yes, I understand completely. Not about being in that chair, but about the self pity. It is rather difficult not to feel that way when one thinks on all that has been lost. But we are still here and so we must carry on, I suppose. And perhaps in time, we will both feel better about things. Perhaps never really whole again but at least not quite so broken."

Matthew looked at him skeptically. "Perhaps for you Sir Anthony. But I'm afraid this chair rather defines what my life is to be."

Glancing across the room at some of the other officers there, ones who had been wounded but were mending and would be fully capable when they left Downton, Anthony sighed. "Yes, your life will be defined, just as mine will be by my injuries. I don't think that's something they understand," he continued as he continued to look at the nearly whole men. "Their wounds will heal and they will go back to their lives almost as if nothing happened. They look at the ones like us, the ones who are permanently wounded, and are simply grateful it isn't them." Shaking his head, Anthony returned his gaze to the young man in front of him. "But I refuse to let Gerry win. I plan to make the most of my life and I hope you can find a way to do that as well."

Matthew flashed him a sad smile. "I am the future Earl of Grantham and have no hope of having an heir to leave it all to. The Earldom will end with me, it seems. It's a disappointment for me and even more for the present Earl, I believe."

"Yes, well, titles aren't everything," Anthony replied thoughtfully. "If your tenure as Earl helps the people who depend on this estate, if your oversight can help the estate move into the future, then you will have done your duty."

Matthew looked at him skeptically but nodded his agreement. "I'll need the name of your estate manager to begin. You appeared to be very much involved in your affairs before the war, but you must have a solicitor. I'll need to speak to him, as well. I can't imagine he'll be happy that you've chosen me to manage these things now. "

"Quite right. But you see, I know you. Not all that well, I realize; but I don't have any memory of a solicitor from before and whoever it might be, he will be a stranger to me. And I believe you to be an honest man. I believe I can trust you."

Matthew smiled sadly. "We'll get started as soon as you give me those names."

"I have a meeting with my sister this afternoon. I'll get them from her. And thank you."

Edith drove Anthony to Locksley after lunch. This time when he entered the old house, he felt even more at home. It wasn't that walking through the door evoked any memories, more of just a sense of belonging. Yes, he belonged here; he could feel it inside him, in his bones. Agatha was beside herself with excitement when she saw him standing in the front hall. "Oh Anthony, you are home," she cried happily.

Startled by her exuberance, Anthony turned to his sister and smiled. "It is good to see you, Agatha. I am grateful that you and Alistair are willing to take this time to help me." His feelings toward the older woman were warming, but he still didn't feel the comfortable familiarity he thought should exist between siblings.

"Of course we shall," Agatha smiled. Looking across at Edith, she nodded. "It is very good to see you again, Lady Edith. Thank you for bringing my brother to Locksley. I'm sure when we are done here, we can return him to Downton."

Edith looked as if she was about to object when Anthony spoke up. "Oh no, Agatha, you don't understand. Lady Edith is here with me, not just as my driver but as my… friend." Edith looked up at him with uncertainty at first but her expression changed to one of quiet happiness. "Yes, Anthony and I have renewed our friendship and I can't imagine leaving him here on his own until he is more comfortable. Everything is still new to him and at times, upsetting. I have strict orders from Dr. Clarkson to remain with him for now." Anthony knew that Clarkson had ordered no such thing but was grateful for the excuse to have her near him. She was right that he wasn't entirely comfortable and her presence most definitely helped.

A frown crossed Agatha's face as she looked at the pair. Watching his sister, Anthony saw when the pieces came together in her mind. "Yes, you were so very close before the war. It is so wonderful that you are able to still be friends now, even though Anthony doesn't remember."

"He is still the same man," Edith replied, "at least, in all the ways that truly matter."

Anthony could only smile awkwardly at her comment and yet, both the women saw something achingly familiar in his expression. He didn't believe for one moment that he wasn't a very changed man, in every way. He was ill at ease being the topic of conversation and they needed to move on.

"Well, I've found some old photographs of the family. They are in the library, if you'd like to come have a look?" Agatha turned, assuming that Anthony would follow. He did, careful to be sure Edith was beside him.

As Anthony looked through the photographs and Agatha explained who each person was, Anthony realized he felt nothing. Oh, perhaps he was a bit curious about the various faces in the photos, especially the daguerreotype of his grandparents. As he looked at the image, he recognized that one of the faces staring back at him was the same one he saw in the mirror each morning.

Agatha seemed to understand his interest in that particular photograph and hurried to add more commentary. "That was Sir Phillip Strallan, our father's father. The woman is our grandmother, of course. She was Antonie. Her maiden name was Gauss. Grandmother visited her Hanoverian relatives often and would take our Papa when he was a boy. Papa met Mama on one of his visits to Hanover and a few years later they married. Her name was Therese. So it followed that we spent parts of our summers there, visiting family. You were always very good with the language, learning it early and speaking it as if you'd lived there all your life. You once told me that your knowledge of Germany, the language and customs, and our family connections were the reasons why the Home Office asked you to go there before the war on a sort of reconnaissance mission. Apparently, your report upon your return helped them prepare, as war seemed inevitable." She paused and watched Anthony as he took it all in. "The Strallans have roots in Germany, as well; Westfalen. But those ties are several hundreds of years old and we lost touch with those relatives long ago."

Anthony sat frozen, the photograph in his hand as his mind processed it all. Those animals, those beasts, who had so thoroughly mistreated him were possibly his kinsmen? It wasn't something he had considered before and somewhere deep inside, he felt anger building and a dark cloud surrounding him; a cloud filled with the sounds of war and even worse, the sounds of torture.

"Anthony?" He heard Edith's soft voice from somewhere nearby and mentally he slowly came back to the library at Locksley. Looking at his sister he could barely give voice to his thoughts. "So I might have encountered some of our relatives, cousins, during the war?"

"It is very likely," Agatha conceded. "I had a letter from our cousin, Wilhelmine von Ruden, just as the war began. In it she said that all of the younger men in the family had joined the Armeekorps and were preparing to fight. When you were were recruited to go to the continent, I wrote to her expressing my worry that you might come against them on the battlefield. I, of course, had no idea that you weren't a part of the regular fighting units. Had I known, I believe my fears would have been even worse."

"I don't know what to say," Anthony replied. " I... I'm afraid I can't take all this in right now. Just having the pictures of our family, our parents and grandparents is so much..." He paused a moment. "To think that I am in this condition because of family is..." It was overwhelming, the visit to Locksley, the connections to the very people who had injured him so deeply, it was just too much for him to take in.

"Perhaps if you spoke of your childhood here at Locksley with Anthony," Edith interjected. Anthony's relief was visible to everyone. And he was grateful for her presence, guiding the conversation away from the only memories he had, painful ones. They spent the next hour with Agatha telling stories about their childhood at Locksley.

Edith sensed how tired Anthony was growing and finally suggested that it was time to return to Downton. As they stood to leave, Anthony remembered his mission for the afternoon. "Oh, I want to ask if you know who my solicitor is?"

Agatha looked at him curiously. "Your solicitor? Surely you aren't worried about business yet?" She was looking at him worriedly.

"No, well…. yes, in a way. I simply want to begin to understand what is required for the upkeep at Locksley. And there are a few matters that I wish to have settled."

Looking no less satisfied, Agatha answered. "Well, unless you changed solicitors, you were most likely using Gerrard and McClain in London. They've been solicitors for Locksley for at least three generations."

"That is likely to change," Anthony said. "I won't explain now but I believe I have met someone who can help me with these matters and is much closer to Locksley. I have no desire to travel to London to meet with solicitors." Anthony paused for a moment. "Oh, and who is the estate manager? We do have one, I assume."

"Philpott. George Philpott," Agatha supplied, looking at him skeptically. "He lives in the cottage just beyond the orchard and has managed things for over twenty years, I believe. He was a brick when Maud died. I don't think you or the estate would have made it without him here. I do hope you aren't thinking of dismissing him?"

"No, not at all. I just…. Well, I need to start preparing …."

Agatha smiled. "Yes, Locksley and all the tenants have missed you."

Anthony's smile in reply was not a sincere one but he offered it none the less. Everything was still so new and unsure to him and he knew he wasn't prepared to meet a lot of people who were anxious to renew things with him. The very thought of such a scenario made him nervous. But he did have the names he needed now and Matthew could proceed. That in itself was encouraging to him.

Anthony sat quietly, watching Edith as she drove them back to Downton. _She really is a lovely creature_ , he mused. _It's as if her hair has little touches of gold… I wonder if we should be blessed with children, what their hair might look like. I do hope they have touches of gold like their mother._ Anthony blinked as he realized where his thoughts were taking him. _Children?_ _With Edith?_ _What a pleasant thought._ He wore a deeply happy smile the rest of the way back.


	15. Chapter 15

That evening Anthony and Matthew sat at a small table in the converted library. Anthony had given Matthew the names and together they were planning the letter that Matthew would write to the solicitors. It was decided that Anthony should meet George Philpott, the estate manager at Locksley, and arrange a meeting between the three of them after Matthew heard from Anthony's solicitor.

Confident that he'd done as much as he could to begin the process, Anthony went to his room. After reading a chapter from one of the books in the Grantham library, he fell into a restful slumber, filled with dreams of Edith.

The following afternoon, with some trepidation, Anthony returned to Locksley with Edith at his side. He knew Agatha meant well, but she always seemed to find a way to upset him and he didn't expect today to be any different. And it wasn't.

"I thought we might take a turn around the gardens today," she said after walking around the house with her pointing to this room or that portrait and explaining some significance to it, which Anthony forgot almost as quickly as she explained it. There really was so much to take in, he reflected as they descended the stairs. They were in the front entry when she made her suggestion.

"It is a lovely day, isn't it," Edith offered.

"Yes, lovely day," Anthony agreed. "Yes, why not. Perhaps you could point out the manager's cottage to me or his office? I'll need to speak with him eventually."

As they meandered through the gardens behind the house Anthony was surprised to look back at it and realize just how large it was. It certainly didn't appear quite so large from the front. There was a garage and several stalls for carriages and horses in the back, as well. All were constructed of the same brick as the main part of the house and had green doors and trim. It looked quite neat and tidy, he thought as they passed by.

"I've never been back here," Edith said warmly as they made their way past the garage. "We always walked out to the side whenever I visited before the war. There are some lovely trees in that direction and a small graveyard over the knoll there."

Anthony glanced back in the direction where she pointed and frowned. "A graveyard?"

"Yes," Agatha answered. "Many of the early Strallans are buried there, as are two or three of your dogs."

"Dogs?"

"Yes. You had a menagerie as a child, Anthony. You always had at least one dog. And I also seem to remember a rabbit, a goat and a lamb. There were other animals too. Papa finally put a stop to your animal collecting when you brought home a fish you'd caught in the pond and wanted to put it in water and keep it in the study. From then on it was dogs and horses only. Or at least, that was it as far as our father knew. Old Mr. Langley kept a place in his shed for you to house your animals for several years."

Edith chuckled when she heard the mention of a fish, which made Anthony smile. What sort of names did he give his pets?" she asked. "Papa always seems to name his dogs after some ancient Egyptian.

"Oh Anthony wasn't nearly so historical. His first puppy was Fluffy, as I recall. He had another that he named Spot. The rabbit was Hoppy. The goat was….now, let me think…. Oh yes, Merlin." Turning to look at Anthony she smiled. "You were in your Arthur phase then. and after that you tended to be quite literary in your naming habits." Looking back at the path, she continued. "The lamb was Finlay, or Fin. And of course, Leviathan was your fish."

Anthony could see that Edith was quite amused by his pet names. "And other dogs? You said I had two or three buried over there."

"Well, let me think… You had a hound that you called Huck after the Mark Twain character. And there was a mongrel that wandered onto the property that you dubbed Friar Tuck. Oh, and there was a stable dog you called Billy Bones. "

"And horses?" Edith asked. "Did he have a favorite horse?"

"He had a pony as soon as he was old enough for Papa to convince Mama he should ride. Papa bought a Welsh Cob, which you promptly named Gawain. Later you had Gringolet. But I think your favorite was Hengroen. He was a beautiful black hunter that Papa gave you on your sixteenth birthday. You and Hengroen were a sight, you with your long legs and tall frame sitting atop him. He was tall and graceful in his gait and it seemed he could jump anything. I remember the two of you flying over the hedgerow near the gate to the orchards and Mama nearly collapsing at the sight of it. But you made the jump and you picked an apple from one of the trees and brought it back to Mama. She wanted to thrash you and hug you at the same moment."

Anthony listened and tried to let any images, perhaps a fleeting memory, pass into his mind but there was nothing. By then they had reached the bottom of the gardens and were just turning to walk back when there were gunshots and a flock of birds flew in mass out of the orchard. The sounds startled Anthony and he dove to the ground seeking cover behind a large shrub near the path. Suddenly there was gunfire all around him, the steady rat-a-tat of machine guns and mortar fire loud in his ears, inside his head. He curled into a ball, his long legs tight against his body as he was thrown deeper into the battle in his mind. His eyes were closed tight against the images that crept into his mind of explosions all around him. But then he could feel someone touching him on his arm and then a gentle stroking of his face. And then there was a voice, Edith's voice, calling to him.

Slowly he opened his eyes to see her sitting next to him, her face full of worry. Looking up, he saw the blue sky above them and realized everything was quiet, even his horrorstruck sister who stood behind Edith. "It's alright, Anthony," Edith was telling him. "It was just a single shot, probably one of the farmers shooting a rabbit or something. We're here at Locksley and everything is alright."

Anthony blinked and looked around. He could see the house in the distance, whole and not blown to bits. Looking back at Edith, he fought the images that had overwhelmed him a moment ago. "You… you're here… you're alright?" He whispered.

"Yes, I'm fine. And so are you. And so is Agatha. We're all fine. Do you think you are ready to sit up now?"

Anthony pushed up into a sitting position and was able to see more of his surroundings. Yes, everything was just as it should be, he reassured himself. Taking in his sister's face, he felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I… I'm not sure what came over me."

"I … I've never seen anything like that," she replied. "Really Anthony, you must have a better hold on your emotions… to be so frightened by a single shot when you've grown up here with the farmers shooting at rabbits and squirrels all your life. I don't understand…"

Edith's anger flared in her face. "No, I don't expect you would understand. The sound took him back to the battlefield. He thought that's where he was. And he has no control over that, so you needn't admonish him for it." Edith took his arm and tugged. "Time to return to Downton," she said firmly, as much to Agatha as to Anthony. "Thank you for walking with us and telling us all about Locksley and Anthony's animals, but we need to get back," she directed at Agatha as Anthony stood and dusted off. Within a few short minutes they were back in the car and headed out of the Locksley drive, leaving a perplexed Agatha behind.

"I'm sorry," Anthony said again as they turned onto the road to Downton. "I… I don't know why I…. behaved like that," he said contritely.

"Anthony, you have nothing for which you need apologize. I've seen men react at Downton to far less. Dr. Clarkson says that sometimes sounds or even smells take the mind back to the battlefield. One Captain we had a while ago reacted very much the same when he heard Isis barking at some squirrels. Seemed the Germans had released some dogs on him and they mauled him. Papa was careful not to bring Isis around the poor man after that and he also told everyone to be careful about firing their guns too close to the house."

"Really?" Anthony was still feeling embarrassed but Edith's reassuring voice was helping him to calm down. "Agatha, she must think…."

"She just doesn't understand, Anthony. If she did, she wouldn't speak to you like she did. From what I can gather, she really has been sheltered from the war with no idea of what our men are struggling with, even some who haven't been injured. We can explain to her tomorrow, when we return to Locksley. But for now, I think you simply need to relax and take your mind off of what happened."

"But I really don't understand why it happened. In my mind, there was so much gunfire and more, explosions all around. But I have no recollection of ever having been in a battle. It makes no sense to me."

"That does seem odd. Perhaps Dr. Clarkson might know. Perhaps you should ask him what he thinks about the episode. I wonder if your memory is trying to come back?"

"I can't say. But I think I would prefer that those types of memories remained hidden. I'd much rather remember those days before the war that you've described to me, those rides about the countryside and our discussions. "

"I wish you could remember those too," Edith replied. "Maybe you will one day. In the meantime, my darling man, I plan to create new memories with you, many, many new memories."

"Oh, I do like the sound of that," he replied. And he did. Anthony wanted so much to learn more about his lovely Edith, to know her every nuance. As he pondered the thrill of discovery with her, other thoughts feathered through his mind as well. _Why the devil does she even want to be around me? It must be pity; is she with me out of pity? No, I can't believe that. But…. What other reason could there be? Why would she want to be with a crippled old man who has a shattered mind? It makes no sense._

Edith, having witnessed how Anthony often turned his thoughts against himself, interrupted his introspection. "I'm not with you out of pity, if that is what you are thinking. I love you, Anthony Strallan, warts and all."

 _My god, she knows what I am thinking!_ Deeply engrossed in that notion, Anthony didn't notice when Edith drove past the gates of Downton towards Thirsk. Consequently, he was surprised when they drove into the village and she stopped the car near a tea shop on the main road. "I thought we could do with a little escape," she proclaimed confidently with a smile.

"But there will be people about…" he said as he looked down at his uniform, complete with his arm in the wretched white sling.

"Yes, there will. And they will look at you and see a soldier who has been injured in the arm and go on about their business. Injured soldiers are unfortunately are not an uncommon sight."

"Yes, alright. A spot of tea does sound inviting."

"It does, it really does," Edith answered as she climbed from the car. Anthony, for once, was grateful that Edith was driving. It meant that he could use his left hand to unlatch the door and climb out of the car and it didn't feel awkward at all. In fact, he felt less helpless and so he smiled across the bonnet at her as they each walked to meet in front of it. _Any time with you is inviting_ , he thought as he gazed down into her smiling face. _I don't know how, but you managed to make the earlier episode seem so unimportant…_ With that thought in mind, Anthony escorted his darling into the tea shop, a happy grin plastered on his face.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for the delay. But here we go on another twist of the roller coaster...

* * *

Anthony did enjoy his tea with Edith. He enjoyed it so much, in fact, that he was saddened when it was time to leave the little tea shop to venture back to Downton. Edith seemed to sense his disappointment and gave him one of her reassuring smiles as she stood. _How can it be that she knows me so well?_

Edith chatted as she drove them back but Anthony was quiet as he listened to her and watched the green fields roll by on his side of the car. He wanted more than anything to simply be with her without other people, other distractions, and the idea that he would once again have to share her with the other patients when they returned to Downton was almost sickening to him. _God, how I want to take her to some place quiet and safe and hold her and… and…. so much more…._

"I don't believe you've heard a word I've said," Edith said suddenly.

Startled, Anthony turned to look at her, which in his present state made things even worse. "I… well, it's just…."

"Out with it, Anthony," she commanded in a soft voice.

"I'm just not quite ready to go back and share you with others," he confessed.

Edith smiled and blushed. "Really? Does it bother you that I spend time with the others? They don't make me nearly as happy as you do, you know?"

"I know I shouldn't feel that way. It's just, well…. with no memory, you are my whole world. And I feel completely lost when you are not with me."

Suddenly the car lurched and Edith pulled to the side of the road and cut the motor. Turning, she looked at him with a mix of a happy smile and tears in her eyes. "For that, Anthony Strallan, I am going to kiss you until you beg for mercy." And swiftly, her lips were on his, locking them in the deepest most intense kiss he could remember. Startled at first, it took Anthony a moment to gather his wits and kiss her back, but he did. Oh, how he kissed her. And she kissed him. They leaned into one another, the heat between them intensifying even more. Anthony was on the verge of taking things further, much further if the lust that was washing over him had its way, when Edith let out a whimper and his ardor cooled just a fraction. Leaning back slightly, he asked "what's wrong, my darling?" As if he didn't already know the answer. He had really gone a bit overboard in his enthusiasm.

"The gear shift," she complained, "it was pressing into me and was beginning to hurt."

Laughter erupted from Anthony in a manner that few had ever witnessed. Edith's eyebrows rose as she watched him laugh. Usually if he was amused, he smiled broadly and he might even let loose a small chuckle, but real laughter seemed alien to him. Yet, here he was, his chest shaking from it. "What has you so amused?" she asked warily, wondering what gaff she had committed this time.

"I was worried," he managed between his laughter.

"Worried? About what?"

"I thought," his laughs settled into the small chuckles Edith recognized, I thought I had overwhelmed you with my fervor. I was afraid I had…"

"No, you silly man. I was thoroughly enjoying your _fervor_ until that gear stick poked me."

"I am relieved," he replied happily. "But I am sorry that the experience was painful for you."

Edith sighed and looked down for a moment, as if she were thinking deeply. Then looking back up at him, her expression earnest and emotion filled. "Anthony, I honestly don't think I can wait for as long as we'd discussed to be married."

Her words hit him in his chest, solidly over his heart, like a battering ram. Leaning back against the seat, his mind fumbled to respond. Finally, he let out a sigh of his own. "I understand, my sweet; you shouldn't have to wait for me to heal. Please know, I do understand. You are young and want to have a young man and a family and…"

Again, she cut him off but this time not with a kiss. "Anthony, I've never thought you a fool but just now you are sounding like one. How can you possibly think, even for one moment, that I would want or even could entertain the thought of another man? And as for a family, well, I do want one with you. And only you, Anthony Strallan."

"But you just said…"

"That I don't think I can wait. Yes, I'm aware of what I said. What I don't understand is how you could believe I meant I might marry anyone else. What I meant was that as strong as my feelings are, as much as I want to be your wife in every way, I simply can't wait. I want, I need for us to be together. I want to be yours and I need to know that, what it is to be yours.

Anthony's heart almost stopped as he gaped at her. "you…you want…. me in …. that way?"

"Yes, I do; I really do. Are all men this dense? How can you imagine that I don't want you…in that way, as you say? I've kissed you and tried to seduce you in all manner of fashion."

His heart beating again, rather rapidly in fact, Anthony simply stared at her for a moment. Finally gathering his wits, he replied. "I suppose I am being rather dense, my sweet. But you see, in spite of your declarations of your feelings for me, I just can't fathom how you see me in that way. I am not blind. I see myself in the mirror. An old man with a dead arm and other scars too. And worst of all, is my lack of memory. I feel as if I'm rather a lost cause and yet, here you are saying you want me… in that way and in every way. "

"Oh my darning, I don't know how to be any clearer. How can anyone explain really about why they find another person attractive to begin with and why that might become something even more as time passes? Perhaps if you could just accept that it is the way I feel and it is what I want, you might be more settled with the idea of us?"

"I shall try," he said softly, "because it is very much the way I feel too and most definitely what I want. I just fear that in time, you'll regret it all and you'll grow to hate me. I don't think I could bear that."

"I can't imagine ever regretting loving you, my darling Anthony. And I know I could never hate you. So please, no more doubts."

"You make everything seem so simple, so … possible."

"Because it is."

"You really believe that?"

"I do, I really do. But for now, we should be getting back."

"Yes, of course. But first, perhaps one more kiss?"

Careful of the shift knob, Edith gave him his kiss, a rather lengthy passionate one, before starting the engine and turning the car back onto the road.

As they walked through the doors of the Abbey, Anthony was chastising himself inwardly for sounding and being so needy where Edith was concerned. As they separated at the stair landing, he turned to see her worried expression as she watched him. "Remember, you promised to try," she said softly.

"Yes, of course; and I will… am trying."

Later, as Anthony sat at one of the tables in the saloon eating his evening meal, Dr. Clarkson approached. "May I sit?" he asked.

"Certainly," Anthony replied. "Aren't you eating?"

"No, thank you. I have rounds to finish. But I did want a word with you."

Anthony put his fork down and looked at the doctor. "Is there a problem?"

"Word is that there will be an announcement any day that the war is ending. When that happens, Downton will no longer be a convalescent hospital and any patients still requiring care will be relocated to other hospitals."

"Oh," was all Anthony could manage.

"Major Strallan, Sir Anthony… if you had a family to return to at Locksley, I might consider letting you return there with me keeping a watch on you from the cottage hospital. But in your present circumstance, I don't believe that is advisable. You still need more care than servants can be depended upon to provide. "

"What… what if I were married… had a wife to watch over me, as you say."

"But you don't."

"I… Lady Edith and I are planning to be married."

Dr. Clarkson shifted in his chair; all of his attention focused on Anthony. "Marrying too soon is ill advised, Sir Anthony. I don't believe you are ready for that responsibility. And while Lady Edith has been very helpful with you here, I don't think she is truly prepared for what caring for you at Locksley might entail."

Anthony's jaw tightened as he felt his insides crumble. "But… she… does help me. She…she anchors me."

Clarkson smiled. "Yes, I've noticed. But, I believe that if you were to marry now and go back to Locksley with her, you'd probably become very dependent on her for the rest of your life. Is that really how you want things to be between you?"

Anthony gasped at the notion. "No, not at all."

"I have contacted Captain Rivers. He's at Craiglockhart in Scotland. But he's been in London and Cambridge for the last fortnight and will return to Craiglockhart soon. I've asked him to stop here."

"Captain Rivers?"

Yes, He's done marvelous work with war neuroses patients, I believe he might help you. Will you speak with him if he stops here?"

"I'm…. I'm a neuroses patient? You think I'm crazy?"

"Yes, I believe you are a neuroses patient. But no, you are not crazy. And your symptoms are not like any I've encountered before. I believe Captain Rivers can help you much more than I am able."

"So you are suggesting I might go to this hospital in Scotland for this man to help me?"

"Yes, I am. That is, if he agrees with me that you are a war neuroses patient, which I believe he will."

"But… that would mean leaving here, leaving… Edith." Anthony was hardly aware that he had spoken his thoughts aloud until Clarkson responded.

"It would. But she could perhaps visit. And in the end, you would return to her much better prepared to be a good husband."

Anthony's mind was clouded, a grey mist swirling in his thoughts. But he knew the doctor was right. He needed to heal before taking on marriage. "I'll speak with this man, Rivers," he told Clarkson. "I'll see what he has to say. I shan't promise more than that."

"I'll make the arrangements," Clarkson said. "And for what it's worth, I think you are making the right choice."

Anthony watched as the doctor walked away. He felt as if the roof had just fallen on him.


	17. Chapter 17

Did a bit of research on Dr. Rivers. He was quite an interesting character apparently, with a very intelligent and inquisitive mind. I'm not well versed in the mysteries of the mind but I do like to play there, so I've taken some license with Rivers' explanation to Anthony of all his troubles. I did base it, however, on the reading I've done on Rivers' work, especially during the war. So I suppose you could say I've sort of fused a bit of the real Dr. Rivers and my plot bunnies together to create the character in my story. It is all a little bit of a stretch but not totally outside the framework of his work. My apologies to him if I've wandered too far from the truth of who he was and what he did.

Happy reading! Please do drop me a line to let me know what you think ;)

* * *

Dr. Clarkson arranged to have a small, private sitting room for Anthony to meet with Rivers and once he had introduced the two and was satisfied that Sir Anthony was calm, he excused himself and returned to his other duties. Dr. Rivers, as Clarkson had introduced the Captain, was a slight man, Anthony noticed. And while he didn't appear to be unhealthy, he wasn't a picture of good health either. Anthony watched as the other man's bespectacled eyes surveyed his charts, a twitch of his lips here and a slightly raised eyebrow there, which made Anthony uncomfortable. But he was managing to keep his thoughts under control and not put to much into the other man's responses to his charts. Finally the man set the file down on the table next to him and pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, settled back in his chair to look at Anthony. "You've have quite a record there, Major Strallan."

Anthony sighed. "It matters little to me, since I can't remember much. My only memory of the war is being a prisoner and the torture the Germans employed."

"Yes, so I understand. Do you know what I do, Major Strallan?"

"Do? You… you're a doctor, I'm told."

"Yes, I am. And I've done quite a lot of work in the medical field and trained as a surgeon, but at present I am a psychologist. I'm working at Craiglockhart with officers who have what is commonly called shell shock."

"Yes, Dr. Clarkson thinks I might … that shell shock might explain some of my ... situation."

"How exactly do you see your situation, Major Strallan?"

"Please, can we drop the Major Strallan? The war is almost over and I'm out of it anyway. My name is Anthony Strallan. I'm told I am a baronet, so some refer to me as Sir Anthony. Please call be by any name you wish, but leave off the Major."

"Yes, alright. But you haven't answered my question, Sir Anthony."

Anthony sighed heavily. "I… I don't really know how to answer exactly. I… well, I have no memory before that awful house where the Americans found me. After that it was one hospital after another until I came here. And… well, there is my arm," he said as he waved his good hand over his sling. "Bit of a broken wing, absolutely useless..." He paused and thought a little more. "And sometimes, when things get to be too much, I begin to shake, quite a lot. A few days ago, when I was visiting my sister at our childhood home, there was gunfire and… well, I don't know what happened exactly. I know I dropped to the ground and was shaking and… I heard shelling, gunfire far beyond the farmer shooting at some game. It was as though I was in a battle. If Edith hadn't been there and known how to bring me back to myself, back to where we were, I think I might have lost my mind from the fear of it."

"Edith? She is your sister?"

"No, Agatha is my sister. Edith is… well, we're to be married."

Rivers let a slight frown crease his forehead but then he broke into a warm smile. You're engaged? How delightful. But have do you know the lady, is she a nurse?"

"She… Apparently we knew each other before the war. We were … close, I'm told. Her father is the Earl of Grantham, this is their home. When I was found, I had her picture in my jacket pocket. The picture, the idea that there was someone waiting for me, well, that kept me… sane."

"And so, you came here and the two of you renewed your acquaintance."

"Yes." Anthony waiting to hear an admonishment form the doctor but none came.

"This Edith, she is aware of your problem?"

"Very much aware, Doctor. She seems to be the only one who can truly help me when I'm having an… episode. Dr. Clarkson sometimes gives me a dose of laudanum to calm me, but that's usually only required if she isn't there."

"She is very important to you, then?"

"Yes, she is; but not for that reason. She… well, as I tell her, she is my whole world."

Rivers took a deep breath. "I see." Then smiling again at Anthony, he asked, "how would you feel about expanding your world? Perhaps regaining your memory?"

"You can do that, bring my memory back?"

"I can try to help you do that. And also, I've read your surgeon's report. Sir Anthony, while your shoulder and arm are almost certainly permanently injured, there is no reason for the complete loss of the use of your arm. I believe that some of the paralysis you are suffering in your arm may also be down to the war neuroses."

"I might have my arm back?" Anthony struggled to believe that was possible.

"Not completely, no. It will always be weaker and not agile. But I do believe you should regain some of it, enough to properly hold your Edith, certainly."

Anthony sat, numb for a moment, and then a feeling of joy washed through him. There was hope; he could be useful, not so crippled after all. And he might remember those afternoons with Edith that she recalled so fondly. "And my shaking episodes?"

"I believe we can help you learn to manage those too," Rivers replied.

"But how?" Anthony was incredulous. How was it possible that so many of his ills could be cured, or at least managed?

"I have developed what is called by others a talking cure. I work form the idea that by talking we can bring repressed memories into the light of your consciousness and rid those things which your mind wishes to forget of their power. I spend most of my days simply talking with patients and listening. It's a process I've called autogonosis. We start with a retraining of sorts, teaching you about the basics of psychology and physiology to give you an understanding of why your mind and body have reacted as they have. Then we'll contrive ways to overcome the unwanted patterns and thus free you or at least help you adjust to the illness."

"Retrain?" Anthony didn't quite comprehend what the doctor was saying.

"Yes. Did you know that there are far more officers suffering from war neuroses than the regular men, about four officers for every man?"

"There are?"

"Yes, I believe it is down to two things. First, most officers come from the higher classes, where men are trained from the cradle to repress many of their instincts in order to be proper gentlemen. So repression of emotions, like fear, becomes ingrained. These officers come upon situations that are so far beyond what we consider normal in civilized society, that it overwhelms their ability to manage it all. Memories get shoved to the back of the mind and locked away. We've seen more amnesia cases among the officers than the men. Also, officers believe they must repress their feelings to be proper role models for their men. Mustn't let the men see fear in their leaders."

"I…. I think I understand what you are telling me. You think I've repressed something I saw in France and in so, locked away all my memories?"

"Yes, I do. I'll add that since you've lost all memory, I believe it was more than one event, that perhaps there were many and your mind reached a point where it just couldn't process it all."

"But that doesn't explain my arm…. Or my shaking."

"I'm am not absolutely certain that your arm is part of it, but I think it probably is. Paralysis is very common among neuroses patients; a physical response of self-preservation. They can't send you back if your arm doesn't work. As for the shaking, I can't be sure what is the cause but again, quite common. For you, my instinct tells me that your memory is trying to resurface but your mind isn't ready for it, so you shake."

"And you think you can fix this?"

"I can't promise that we will fix this; it will take your effort more than mine. And I won't lie to you, you may never completely recover. However, I think with some effort, your life can be much more manageable."

"But only if I go to Craiglockhart?"

"For now, yes. I'll be there awhile longer but once the war is truly over and a doctor is found to replace me there, I'll be mustered out. I've been offered a fellowship at Cambridge and will relocate there. If you feel our work is helping you, then you could follow me there."

"My sister lives in Cambridge," Anthony said quietly as his mind pondered the information.

"Oh?"

"Yes, her husband, Alistair, is at Cambridge."

"Alistair? Is he an academic?"

"Um, no. He does something with finances."

"Alistair Chetwood then. He is your brother-in-law?"

"Yes, his wife is my sister."

"Yes, I've met them. Alistair is a corker when he gets away from his office."

"I…. I wouldn't know," Anthony said sadly.

"No, of course not. But in time, even if your memory doesn't return, you'll see it too I'm sure."

Not caring to dwell on his sister, Anthony asked, "When would I need to go to Craiglockhart?"

"You could travel with me, if Dr. Clarkson is ready to release you from here."

"So soon?" Anthony felt panic rising in his chest. "I… I need to speak with Edith."

"Of course. I'll stay the night and we'll travel tomorrow. I can't stay away longer than that, or I would, simply to give you more time with your Edith."

"I appreciate your situation, Doctor. And I haven't promised to go with you, although I am interested in all that you have described. As I said, I must speak with Edith."

The two men parted genially. Dr. Rivers went in search of Dr. Clarkson while Anthony went in search of Edith.


	18. Chapter 18

_The two men parted genially. Dr. Rivers went in search of Dr. Clarkson while Anthony went in search of Edith_. He found her in the saloon playing cards with some of the other officers. Once she saw him, she excused herself from the game and walked over to meet him. "Well, what did you think of Dr. Rivers?"

"Might we take a walk, find a bench where we can talk?"

"Yes, let's." So they strolled through the front door and out onto the lawn in search of a quiet bench. Once they found one they settled upon it under the shade of one of the many large oaks that dotted the estate. Anthony could feel Edith looking at him expectantly. He just didn't quite know how to begin.

Finally, she spoke. "What was this Dr. Rivers like? Did he think you are one of these war neuroses patients? Is there a treatment?"

Anthony digested all her questions and finally knew how to start. "With the exception of Dr. Clarkson, who knew me before, all the doctors in the hospitals have been rather cold and distant. But this man was not. And while I was quite uncomfortable at times, he managed to get me to talk some of the things that have happened. He does believe I am one of those patients, yes. He uses what he called a talking cure to help patients understand what has happened to them, why they are… as they are. Even in our short conversation, I felt as if I'm not quite so … hopeless."

"Hopeless? Anthony, you are not and never have been hopeless."

"To you perhaps, but in my own mind…. Yes, quite often as a matter of fact. But he… he helped me to see that I can get better, possibly even cured. Well, not entirely cured, but…"

"He thinks you will get your memory back?"

"Yes, at least most of it. He believes that there are things that my mind has locked away and will never open to again. But he believes I might get some of my memory back. But more than that, he can help my episodes and even thinks some of the problem with my arm might be down to the neuroses. He looked at the surgeon's report and says I should have some use of my arm and with treatment, he thinks I can regain that. It won't ever be completely mended, but I would have some use of it again."

"Oh, that's marvelous!" Edith smiled brightly, truly happy to hear his news. "So will he tell Dr. Clarkson how to treat this neuroses?"

"Ah, no. As we thought might be the case, I would go to Craiglockhart with him. With the war ending, he will be demobbed and take up a fellowship at Cambridge. I would follow him there."

"Go with him? Leave Downton? For how long?" Her face fell instantly.

"I cannot answer that. Dr. Rivers believes I am an unusual case and can't predict how long it will take."

Edith sat very still for several long moments, which made Anthony nervous. "He…. He wants me to go with him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But that won't give us time to…."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that. Wouldn't it better if we wait to marry? You would be free to cho…"

"Oh no you don't, Anthony Strallan!"

What?" Her tone startled him.

"You're going to try to set me free to find someone else. And I don't want that, not at all. You are my choice and I won't let you escape again."

It warmed him to hear her say that, but worry for her overtook the warm feelings. "But this cure could take months, years even. And I can't bear the thought of you just… just sitting around waiting for me to be better, wasting yourself on me like that." It really was a dreary, depressing picture, he thought.

"I thought we were past all that," she sighed. "Just the other day we were planning for our future, our home and our children. And now, here we are again with you doubting all of it."

"Yes, I know and I'm sorry. But I do worry, you know." _It sounds so wonderful when she speaks of a future for us... but can I really do that to her?_

"Well stop worrying, at least so much. This is what I want, Anthony. I want you and I want us to build our lives together. If this Dr. Rivers can make you better then that's good, but I'll take you however you come to me, war neuroses and all. And I won't wait."

She was almost making him believe... "But as you said, there isn't time…"

"We'll make time. We'll ask Dr. Rivers if you can follow him up to Scotland. We'll do just as we said, go to the registrar and get married quickly and then we will go to Scotland. I'll find a flat and live nearby while you go for your treatment. And I will visit as often as allowed. And when you leave, I will go with you."

Still not convinced, he replied, "Your family won't approve and I wouldn't blame them."

"Their approval is not necessary for our happiness. They've never really approved of me anyway, so nothing will be lost as far as I'm concerned."

"You are quite serious about this." _I just can't believe that she is serious... but she seems quite confident. Perhaps it might be alright..._

"More serious than anything else in my life ever. I can't imagine a future without you and I don't even want to try."

Anthony pondered her words, his insides churning with trepidation and also with delight. _Oh my sweet, I can't imagine it either._ "Alright then, if you're certain. I'm not certain about anything right now, except how very much you mean to me. So, we'll do things your way."

They looked for Dr. Rivers and found him with Dr. Clarkson. Anthony explained Edith's plan carefully. "And so you see Dr. Rivers, while I do want to come to Craiglockhart, I won't be travelling with you tomorrow," he concluded.

Rivers looked at them as if they had two heads, Anthony thought. Then the man glanced at Clarkson, who was standing quietly with a smug grin on his face. Finally, Clarkson chuckled. "I told you he wouldn't leave without her." Anthony was surprised by Clarkson's comment. Did Clarkson believe it might work?

Rivers scowled and looked at Edith. "Are you certain about this, Lady Edith. It is likely to be a long time before Sir Anthony is prepared to fully be a husband to you. And as for you living nearby and visiting there will be times when visitation is not possible. "

"But you are wrong, Dr. Rivers. Anthony is ready to be my husband now in every way that is important to me. I understand his treatment will take some time and I am very happy that you think he will improve. But even if he never improves, I will have him and be glad of his place in my life. We were kept apart once; I will not allow that to happen again. I _will_ visit when it is allowed but I will be nearby at all times. And I will not be kept out of what is happening to him."

Rivers turned to Clarkson and nodded. "I see what you were saying." Then turning back to Anthony, he said, "Are you absolutely certain you won't wait? I truly don't believe you are ready to manage the responsibility of marriage and the stress might hinder your work."

"I…. " Anthony hesitated, feeling quite unsure of anything. But then he looked down into Edith's eyes, so full of confidence and reassurance and he had his answer. "There are so many uncertainties in my life, Dr. Rivers, so much of which I am unsure. But one thing I do know is that I need Edith with me; my very sanity depends upon it."

Rivers frowned. "such dependence isn't good; surely you see that?"

"I don't mean that in the sense that I can't live without her or even that I couldn't find some level of contentment on my own. But she gives me purpose, a reason to … to fight for what I've lost. Without her, without that purpose, I'd sink into a quagmire of despondency and despair. And I love her. I cannot see how her presence will be any sort of hindrance as I try to recover; in fact, I see her presence as a reason to work harder at it. And she is quite confident that she is willing to accept what little I might have to offer now and even into the future, if I don't get any better. And... well, you see... while I feel like I haven't much to offer her at all, I do know that I love her, that no one could love her more." He felt Edith slip her hand into his good one and give it a squeeze as if to say that his love was enough.

Rivers stared at the baronet long and hard, his expression a curious one as he contemplated Anthony's declaration. Finally, acceptance settled in his features. "As you know I must return tomorrow. Join me as soon as you are able, say a week or two. The sooner we begin, the sooner you can move on with your life with your lady."

Elated, Anthony thanked both doctors before Edith pulled him away for some privacy. "You were absolutely brilliant," she told him when they reached his room.

"I was?" He didn't feel brilliant. His feelings were more along the lines of relief.

"Yes, my handsome man, you were." Reaching up, she kissed him soundly.

"Should we find your father?" Anthony asked when she released his lips. _Might as well finish what we've begun today. Get it over with..._

"We can, if you wish," she replied. "But I'd much rather stay here and kiss you."

"I have no objection to that," he answered with a grin. "But if we speak to your father today, then perhaps we can make arrangements for our wedding tomorrow."

Edith smiled happily. "Yes, the sooner the better." After one more kiss they went in search of her father.


	19. Chapter 19

So sorry, I've been AWOL with my writing and have no compelling reason other than my muse has been in a lazy mood these last few weeks. I promise to try to rouse her and get cracking. After all, the holidays will soon be upon us and begging for lots of merry Andith fluff.

* * *

"You are planning to do _what_?" Robert Crawley bellowed at Anthony and Edith as they explained their plans.

Anthony felt Edith tense beside him and carefully placed his hand at her back, all the while keeping his eyes trained on her father. "We plan to marry, Lord Grantham, as soon as possible. And then we will travel north."

"But this is preposterous," he roared again. "I am surprised by you, Sir Anthony, that you would treat my daughter in such a manner. I thought you to be a gentleman."

"A gentleman?" Anthony fired back. "I cannot say what I am, except that I am the man who is soon to marry Lady Edith. If it is ungentlemanly to marry the woman I love and who loves me, then so be it."

"How can you say you love her, when you barely know her? You've only been here a month or two. And you say you have no memory of your time spent with her before, so it is as if you've only met. Yet you claim to love her and are demonstrating just the opposite by hastily marrying her and then dragging her away to Scotland. I won't have it!"

Anthony felt Edith's body begin to shake. Thinking she was crumbling in the face of her father's wrath, he accepted that this all might end in disappointment, even as he glared at her father. But Edith surprised him and stepped forward. "You may not care for it, Papa; but I _will have it_! I will marry Anthony and I will go to Scotland with him and then where ever else he might go after. And I will do it knowing everything I need to know about him, including that I love him. You will not stop us Papa. You might try, but I will not be kept away from Anthony. "

Robert huffed and then softened slightly in his posture and expression. "But at least wait to see if this treatment will work. If it does, then you can be properly married from here and begin your life together in a happy manner."

"No Papa, I will not wait. It will be wonderful if the treatment works and I do hope that it does. But I will be with Anthony no matter what. I would be content if he were to forego the treatment and for us to marry and move to Locksley tomorrow. "

Robert looked at her and then flashed an angry scowl at Anthony, who stood there stoically glaring back. Shifting his gaze back to his daughter, Robert huffed again. "I cannot give my consent to this madness," he said more quietly. "I simply cannot."

"That is your choice," Edith replied stiffly. "I don't need your consent or your blessing. I'm sorry that you feel this way but it won't change my mind. I will marry Anthony and as soon as possible. "

"Lord Grantham, as you say, I can only remember these last weeks here with Edith. But I assure you, my decision has not been a hasty one. I've given her happiness and welfare a great deal of thought, as I have my own. Beyond that, I know from somewhere deep within me that I love her. I may not be able to recall our times spent together before the war, but I find that in my heart, those feelings are not forgotten. For her sake, I hoped we might have your consent. As you say, I don't remember anything from before, so I don't recall our friendship. Consequently, for myself, I care little one way or the other if you grant your consent. I will do what my heart tells me to do in this and in all matters that concern Edith. She has convinced me that her happiness lies with me and I won't dishonor her by ignoring her certitude. Hopefully in time you will come to accept our decision, one I assure you we made together. We'll leave here with no ill feelings towards you but we will leave together and no one will interfere."

Robert glared at Anthony so angrily that he was sure the man's rage would explode. But instead of that, Edith's father simply barked, "We'll see about that. Surely Edith will be made to see the senselessness of this idea before you can go."

Anthony was dumbfounded by Robert's stance. He understood the man's objections to their plans, but didn't see the sense of his stubbornness. Still, he had to try once more. "I understand why you are objecting and I can't blame you for wanting to protect your daughter. You say I am being selfish, and perhaps I am because I simply cannot see a life without her there. But I do intend to do everything I can to see that she is happy and cared for. She will be my wife and I will take my duty towards her quite seriously. You'll always be welcome in our home, should you wish to visit. But do understand this, it will be our home, Edith's and mine, and I will not allow any interference. If you visit, it will be in support of our marriage and not in opposition to us."

Robert Crawley stared at Anthony speechless. Sensing that there was nothing to be gained by remaining, Anthony gave him a curt nod and turned to leave, catching Edith's elbow to guide her out of the room. Once they were out and the door closed behind them, Edith turned and threw her arms around him. "Oh my darling, I'm sorry he put you through that but I am so very proud of you."

Anthony wrapped his left arm around Edith and spoke softly. "I'm rather amazed at myself actually. I was afraid I might have a… an episode but I didn't feel it in the least. I felt… strong, stronger than I can remember ever feeling before. It is having you beside me, my sweet. Having you beside me and knowing we are together in this gives me all the strength I need." He kissed her forehead and then looked down into her warm brown eyes. "And now, I believe we have a wedding to arrange?"

Edith looked down shyly but smiling. Then looking back up at him, she nodded. "Yes, but first, should we go to Locksley and tell your sister? They are leaving for Cambridge tomorrow and I imagine she would be hurt if you didn't tell her."

Anthony gazed down at his lovely Edith and let a small smile work at his mouth. "Yes, of course. I only hope that she is more receptive than your father."

"As do I. But I think we've made our intentions clear enough so far. If she is as obstinate as Papa, then we simply must tell her, as we told him, that we are going to marry and will not allow any interference."

"Yes, but you are sure? I know I keep asking, but I just want to be certain, want _you_ to be certain. Because once the deed is done, well… it will be done. And sometimes I feel as if you're getting the wrong end of the stick in all this. After all, I will be marrying a lovely young woman, half my age. And you, you will be getting a rather worn, broken man who will leave you a widow long before your time."

"Right or wrong end, I will be getting the stick I want, my darling," she replied. "And if I am widowed far too early… well, I'd rather suffer that and have whatever time we are given together than to lose one more moment with you. We are going to be so happy, so very happy. I just know that we are."

Anthony smiled nervously. Looking into her dark expressive eyes, he could almost believe she meant every word. "But if ever…. If you find you are not happy, you will tell me? I don't want you to ever feel must stay with me, be captive to my… burdens. If ever you want your freedom, all you need do is ask."

"Alright. If ever I feel that way, I will ask. That is easy to agree to because I know it will never happen."

An hour later they were at Locksley, facing Agatha and Alistair and hoping their news would be better received than it had been at Downton.


	20. Chapter 20

Don't mind me, I'm just popping in with this little bit. I have been very neglectful and I am truly sorry. Just so much going on right now! Nothing bad, thank goodness, but things have been a juggling act for a couple of months. Anyway, this one is short and hopefully sweet. Still, it comes with my very best wishes for a wonderful New Year for everyone!

* * *

 _An hour later they were at Locksley, facing Agatha and Alistair and hoping their news would be better received than it had been at Downton.  
_

Their news did receive a better reaction at Locksley, even though it was easy to see that Alistair and especially Agatha were caught by surprise. "But are you certain this is what is best?" Agatha eventually asked her brother, her eyes questioning but not unkind.

"Yes, I am. At least, for me," Anthony assured her.

"And you, my dear?" Agatha asked as her attention turned toward Edith. "I cannot see how this will be in your best interest. I love my brother and know he will be a good husband to you, but he is terribly wounded and… well, he is also quite a bit older than you. Are you certain about this?"

Edith smiled at her soon to be sister-in-law and nodded. "Oh yes. I understand that there will be challenges for us. Isn't that true in any marriage? But I've never been so certain of anything in my life. Wounded he may be, but Anthony, with his manner and his consideration, is … well, just perfect for me. Do you know, he is the only person who has listened, truly listened… and even been interested in what I think about things? And as awkward as we both can be at times, somehow I never feel awkward with him. We are alike in so many ways and complement one another when we are not. And I believe Anthony is the only person who has ever understood me and accepted me as I am. How could I not be certain about him when he is so ideal?"

"Well then my dears, if you are confident then you have our support in this madness!"

Anthony saw Alistair grinning and nodding subtly behind Agatha and relaxed. His sister and her husband weren't as confident as Edith, but they would be supportive. And for him, it was as if he could breathe. The doctor's agreement to their plans hadn't be especially supportive and the Crawleys would all be against them if Robert's reaction was any indication. But they would have some support none the less. And for Anthony, that made a huge difference. Perhaps their plans were not so outlandish, or in his case selfish, after all.

The two couples chatted a little while longer. Or at least Agatha and Edith did. Alistair seemed content to smile and nod at what the ladies were discussing, while Anthony simply watched in awe. The vivacious young woman who was so thoroughly involved in conversation with his siter had just said the most wonderful things about him. She really did find something in him that was... what had she said? Ideal. Yes, she saw him as ideal for her. She had said something about his acceptance of her. For the life of him, he couldn't think of anything about her that was not acceptable. She was quite delightful, in fact. And he was a very lucky man that she should want to marry him. Was he being selfish? He felt less so after listening to her response to Agatha's question. Perhaps their marriage would be good for her also. Perhaps he was, or at least could be, the man that she deserved by her side. As he gazed at her chuckling over something Agatha said, Anthony knew with absolute certainty that he would do everything in his power to be deserving of her presence in his life. And with that, his mind quietened and he began to let it wander over their future together, the one they would build in this house.

Anthony settled languidly in the car next to Edith for their return to Downton. Agatha had been tearful as they'd said their good byes and he'd promised many times that he would write and let her know how things progressed. Alistair shook his hand vigorously and smiled. "Well done," the older man whispered conspiratorially as he glanced past Anthony to Edith. "You will send us a note when the deed is done so that we might drink a toast to your happiness?"

"Of course," Anthony replied. And with that, he climbed into the car.

Edith traversed the drive carefully and turned into the road toward Downton before smiling. "That went well. Much better than with my father," she said happily.

"Yes. Yes, it did." Anthony replied, just as happily.

Shooting a glance at him, Edith chuckled. "And you are looking quite pleased with yourself, I might add."

Anthony straightened up in his seat and gleefully replied. "My dear, I am engaged and soon will be married to the most delightful nymph, a fairy goddess, who seems to adore me almost as much as I adore her, although I can honestly say that I can't really fathom why. But I am learning to accept that my little nymph is real and I am quite excited for what the future with her will bring. I sat in the parlor contemplating our future while you were sat giggling with my sister, and once we are past some initial obstacles, I can see us very happily settled at Locksley. So of course, I am pleased, quite pleased."

Edith pulled the car to the edge of the road and stopped. "Are you? Are you really? You can see it now, our future? Oh Anthony, that makes me so very happy. I've felt like I've been pushing you into something you didn't want. But to hear you talking like this…" Edith's gaze left his and settled on something between their seats as a slight blush rose in her cheeks. "Oh, I just can't wait until we are married. It is going to be wonderful; I just know it is!" And then suddenly she was leaning into him, her lips on his and for Anthony, heaven was in the front set of that car.

After a lengthy series of kisses, Edith finally settled back into her seat, blushing and smiling. Anthony felt a bit flushed himself as he watched her retreat. "You know, my sweet, while you and Agatha were walking arm and arm to the car, your heads together, Alistair was giving me a bit of brotherly advice."

"Oh? What advice did he give you? Or will I have to wait until after our wedding to know?" She blushed again which enlightened Anthony about where her thoughts were leading, as if his were not already there. "Ah, no…" He paused to give his words a desired effect. "He suggested Gretna Green. He told me to chuck it as far a church ceremony here with your family breathing down our necks and leave for Scotland tomorrow, stopping in Gretna Green."

His heart leapt at the expression Edith's face took as she digested Alistair's advice. "Really? Gretna Green? Yes, oh definitely yes! We can leave tomorrow, just as he said. That will give us almost the whole time that Dr. Rivers gave you before reporting to him for us to be… together."

"Quite right. And we'll need to find you a flat near the hospital, so the plan has a very practical reason too. At first, I thought Alistair was being a bit… well, romantic in his advice but the more I think on it, I really do believe it is the best course of action. That is, if you are sure?"

"Oh, I am absolutely certain," Edith said.

"You won't regret not being married here, in the church, with your family there?"

"After they way they have behaved? No, not at all. And really Anthony, all I want is for us to be married. I want us to begin our life together. If my family really cared, they'd understand. So no, I'll never regret marrying you at Gretna Green or anywhere else. I'll never regret one moment as your wife."

Anthony smirked. "I hope you still feel that way in twenty years, or even ten. I might hold you to it."

"You do that, Anthony Strallan. You hold me to it, just as long as you are holding me, I'll be happy."

Abruptly she turned her attention back to the car and started the ignition. "We need to get back because I have some packing to do," she declared merrily as she pulled back into the road.


	21. Chapter 21

Wow, I've been away from this for too long. Sorry about that. I started this chapter in February and it has taken me being on lock down because of Covid to finish this one chapter. I sure hope you think it was worth the wait. I need to do better!

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Edith's packing was delayed awhile longer however, as she was met by her father and grandmother in the passage to her room. Her grandmother was scowling with a look of determination while her father simply looked angry. "Edith, we really must discuss this madness with Anthony Strallan," her grandmother declared.

"What madness, Granny?" Edith's tone was deferential yet equally determined.

"Perhaps we can discuss this in your room?" Her father was looking around nervously, obviously afraid they might be overheard.

"I don't believe there is anything to discuss," Edith replied. "Anthony has asked me to marry him and I have accepted. We have decided to marry as soon as possible. It all seems very plain to me."

"But it is not," Granny declared, tapping her cane on the floor for emphasis.

Edith opened her mouth to reply but was cut short by her father. "In your room, please."

With a dissatisfied sigh, Edith walked past them and opened the door to her room. They followed her in and her father closed the door behind them. Standing at the foot of her bed, not allowing them further egress into her space, Edith glared at both. "Granny, it is quite simple really. Anthony was set to propose to me before the war and was interfered with the day that war was declared. He is back and though injured, still the man I wanted to marry before the war. I see no reason why we shouldn't marry now. And before you reply, please consider that nothing has changed as far as I am concerned except that we _both_ are four years older. I've grown up quite a bit since then and I know my own mind."

"But he is far too old for you, my dear."

"Funny, no one seemed to think he was before the war."

"And…and his injuries. Surely you see that they will be impediments to your happiness?"

"I see that Anthony has some healing left to do, yes. I also see that I can help him with that. And I also see that hurt arm or no hurt arm, he is the same man inside, the one who understands me and cares for me."  
"And his memory loss?" Papa interjected before Granny could respond.

"Dr. Rivers believes he can help Anthony with that. But as I've said before, if his memory never returns I will still feel this way about him. I understand what I will be facing by marrying Anthony. What I can't understand is why the two of you are so opposed to it. Why was he suitable for me before the war but not now? He was injured fighting in a war that you wanted to fight in, Papa. What if, instead of Anthony being the injured one it was you? What if the Army had taken you back and you had returned wounded, as Anthony is wounded? Would you expect Mama to not welcome you home? Would you believe you are no longer suitable for her?"

Papa hesitated for a moment and sighed. "But we are already married and have been for years. Apart from that, yes, I would most likely feel that I was unworthy of her if I were wounded like Anthony is. However, because we were already married and have a family, I would expect to be welcomed home. I don't believe I would expect much more though."

"And you would be wrong," Mama's quiet voice sounded from the now open doorway. Slowly, she opened the door more widely and entered. "You would be welcomed home, my darling, and warmly. And I would consider you very worthy, regardless of your insistence otherwise, because I love you." She stepped closer to her husband and smiled up at him. "I would be heartbroken if you rejected me out of some warped sense of honor or duty."

Edith saw that her father was swayed somewhat by her mother's comments, but Granny was not. "Well, that is all fine because, as Robert said, you had been married before. It would be your duty to accept him and his injuries. But it is different with Edith. She and Sir Anthony have not been married, not even engaged. And even if they were engaged, he wouldn't remember it. And he is still too old."

"Granny," Edith started to argue. But it was Cora who intervened. "You considered Sir Anthony a reasonable catch before the war, Mama. Their age difference has not changed. Perhaps the war and his injuries have aged him a bit, but he is still healthy. And as I recall, both his parents lived well into old age. I imagine he will be around for many years to look after Edith."

"Thank you, Mama, but I don't want to be looked after. At least not in that way. I hope we look after one another, care for one another when it is needed."

"Yes, but she will be looking after an old man," the Dowager declared, ignoring Edith. "She will be in her prime, in full blossom and tied to an injured old man."

Edith glared at her grandmother. She heard her mother's light gasp and felt her father's discomfort. "Injured and even when he is finally old, Anthony will be _my_ man and I cannot imagine being married to anyone else. None of your arguments or excuses about why that shouldn't be will sway me, Granny. I _will_ marry Anthony and soon. Whether or not you support our marriage is entirely your decision. But you will not stop it from happening."

Granny looked almost shocked, although Edith doubted that anything could truly shock the old woman any longer. Papa looked as if he was seeing his middle daughter for the first time ever. And Mama, Mama was almost smiling. Granny might be against them and Papa might have his doubts, but in that moment, Edith knew that she at least had the support of her Mama.

"Perhaps we should discuss wedding arrangements?" Cora offered softly.

"Thank you, Mama, but Anthony and I have already made our plans. We'll be married in Scotland. We want as much time together as we can get until he has to report to the hospital there. We have no intention of lingering around waiting for a church wedding."

Granny was taken aback; Edith could see out of the corner of her eye. Papa's brow was furrowed. Mama took the lead. "Might we attend, at least?" She asked.

"Yes, if you'd like; but only in support of our marriage. If you aren't in support then please stay away. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do. We'll leave tomorrow."

Granny huffed and glared at her son in an obvious attempt to make him correct the situation. Robert stood very still for a moment and then ventured a question. "So soon? Can't it wait another day or two?"

"Perhaps it could, but I'm not willing to let it wait. Anthony and I will board the train for Scotland tomorrow. "

Taking a small step towards his daughter, Robert asked very gently, "You are certain about this?"

"I am, Papa."

"Well, alright then…. I can't say I fully support this… this … development. But I won't fight you on it either. I hope that when you and Anthony return to Locksley, we will see you and then perhaps I might begin to understand better."

"Thank you, Papa. Of course, we'll see you when we return. And I do hope you understand one day."

Robert Crawley gave his middle daughter an awkward hug and slowly left the room, his head down as if he was contemplating something of great importance. The Dowager gave Edith one last stare before she followed her son out of the room.

Cora Crawley turned to her daughter. "Can I help you with anything? Perhaps you might pack a few things for now and I can have the rest sent to you once you've settled in Scotland?"

"That would we wonderful, Mama. And thank you."

Cora crossed to the bell pull on the wall to summon Anna and then turned to her daughter's packing. She wasn't entirely happy with her daughter's choice for a husband but Edith didn't seem interested in the usual suitors and they were equally uninterested in her. Perhaps she was right, perhaps Anthony Strallan was the ideal choice. But even if he wasn't, Cora had admired Edith's stand on the matter and wanted to make her daughter feel supported and loved. And after all, there might be grand children and Cora was eagerly looking forward to that prospect.

That night, as Edith crawled under the warm covers of her bed, excitement filled her as she contemplated the new journey she would begin tomorrow. She wondered if Anthony was equally happy.

Alone in his room, Anthony packed his few belongings and then sat quietly in a chair next to the window gazing out at…. Well, nothing really. His mind was too far into his thoughts, thoughts of Edith. He knew being his wife would be difficult for her, especially in the beginning…. And the end. So he tried to focus on what the in between might be like. And those thoughts cheered him. Still, that middle ground would be difficult to find; there were so many obstacles. Most of them belonged to him, he reflected.

It was still so very incomprehensible to believe that such a lovely young woman could find the remotest thing attractive about him. Yet, she obviously did. No one, especially someone like Edith, could feign the passion in her kisses.

It was all so perplexing to him. On the one hand, he knew he was being selfish, claiming her for his bride. But on the other hand, she seemed to want it so much, so desperately much. She had said that she understood things would not be easy, but he wondered if that could really be. Yet, she had seen him in some of his worst moments and her determination had not diminished. And of course, there was that word she had used, vocation. That word still bothered him. He truly did not want to be anyone's vocation, especially not hers. However, in recent days and with the added hope supplied by Dr. Rivers, Anthony was beginning to be able to see himself in a better light. He might never be whole again, but he could still be… well, a man that could be happy and could make his wife happy.

And more than anything, he wanted that, to make his wife, to make Edith happy. And so he too climbed into bed that night full of excitement, with a small portion of his usual anxiety. But he was happy, perhaps even as happy as Edith.


End file.
